


I'm Sitting Right Here

by Vyvrik



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: AU- Gay club, AU- Modern Setting, Enjolras is a city kid, Enjolras is not bad at feelings, Enjolras knows what he wants, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Grantaire is learning that it's ok to have feelings, M/M, Prompt challenge- Teacher, grantaire is a small town boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:43:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2180160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vyvrik/pseuds/Vyvrik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the end of the summer holidays, Grantaire was ready to start his new job the very next day. </p>
<p>This was it, here he was, fresh out of university, new city, new life. </p>
<p>He was free. </p>
<p>He could do whatever he wanted. Only trouble was, alone in a new town, he hadn't exactly figured out what, or who, it was he wanted to do just yet...</p>
<p>Two men meet in a crowded room...</p>
<p>And it all goes downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tiger Tiger, Feel It Feel It

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to a prompt challenge for the word TEACHER. And instead of it being unrealistic and/or doomed like your common or garden variety teacher/student fic, I really wanted to somehow make it work out for Grantaire and Enjolras... maybe?

Grantaire stepped out of the car and looked around his new city properly for the first time. This was it, here he was, fresh out of university, new city, new life. He was free. He could do whatever he wanted. Only trouble was, alone in a new town, he hadn't exactly figured out what it was he wanted to do just yet. The world was at his feet, so to speak. So he decided to take a walk, find something to eat in one of the little places he'd seen down the road, knock back a few beers, just kick back before the new school term started on Monday.

He was nervous as hell, he remembered exactly what he'd been like back in the day whenever their class got a new teacher, it's not like it was that long ago after all and he didn't exactly relish the opportunity of standing up in front of a bunch of rowdy teenagers and living through the receiving end. But it was too late to change anything now. He'd just have to man up and deal. And until then, he was going to do his darndest to gain some liquid courage along the way.

He'd literally just finished moving into his new flat and he was starving. Starving, tired and thirsty. Very thirsty. In fact, he was feeling an insatiable thirst for life right at that very moment, a thirst for new experiences, new friends, a new life altogether, one finally out of the shadow of his father. He was starting with a blank canvas, starting afresh.

He stared out the window as he polished off the last of his beer, pushing his empty plate away and leaning back in his chair as he surveyed the street outside the cafe. Lots of bars and stuff round here, lots of good eats, and what looked to be some pretty happening clubs. One across the road in particular looked like it was the place to be if the rapidly forming queue outside was anything to go by. It was lit up by ridiculously dramatic and tacky giant flaming torches along the front where it spelt out 'TIGERTIGER' in huge metallic letters. Every single person going in seemed to be gorgeous, all being vetoed by the bouncers first, and, Grantaire realised, every single one of them was a man.  
Interesting.

His initial reaction was one of guilt as he stared, averting his eyes as his dad's voice reverberated around his mind before he could stop it, names no decent human in a modern society should ever utter, that bigoted attitude so common in the rabidly religious rearing its ugly head that he'd tried so hard to distance himself from, to dispel the myth that everyone in his corner of the country was an inbred yokel. But he wasn't so sure he believed anything his father had ever told him during the intense years of his childhood homeschooling anyway, his eyes had been opened to so many new things at uni, along with his double first in classics he had discovered other new truths, and had questions he wanted to find his own answers to.

Besides, he couldn't have stopped himself from looking back even if he tried.

He watched curiously for awhile, deciding to stay and nurse a double whisky or three, to wash his dinner down of course, at least that's what he told himself.

He sat fascinated as man after man confidently strolled up, all chatting animatedly in two's, three's, big groups, even those arriving alone seemed to have a confident swagger about them. He marvelled at how they could be so open about themselves, such a far cry from his own sheltered upbringing, his quiet life in a small town, all gangly limbs, national health specs, braces and acne cream ensuring enough nasty nicknames that he'd never be able to look in the mirror and see the fully blossomed man that had emerged and stared back at him every morning. But here, it was a far cry from his strict, miserable childhood. Here, he was so far removed, in every sense of the word, from the awkward youth that had escaped the town where everyone knew your business as well as your name, he didn't have to be that person anymore, he didn't have to be himself. He didn't have to be lonely. He was free. Here, he could be whoever he wanted to be.

He wondered what it would be like inside, images of a heaving dance floor packed with gyrating bare chested men flashing through his mind, and he shook his head swiftly, trying to clear it as best he could as he hurriedly signalled for the bill, eager to be on his way.

Stepping outside, he gave the club another cursory glance before willing his feet to take him in the opposite direction. There were loads more places down here he could get drunk in… at least, there better be.

…

A few hours and a few more of Scotland's finest later, found Grantaire stumbling back along the pavement, wisely forgoing his car in favour of a short stroll back home. Said short stroll was turning out to be longer than expected as he doggedly covered every inch of the footpath, zigzagging along between the abundance of Friday night revellers making their way in the opposite direction.

Stopping to get his bearings, he struggled to remember the directions, having a horrible sensation he'd passed this way once already. He looked around and found himself out the front of the very same club he'd been so intrigued by earlier on. A group of loud, boisterous young guys crossed the road and headed straight up to the entrance, and before he even realised what he was doing he'd inadvertently ingratiated himself amongst them and found himself ushered inside.

He stopped as he emerged wide eyed into the vast interior, letting his eyes adjust to the pulse of the strobe lighting through the dim, crowded space. Through the over abundance of smoke machine induced 'atmosphere', he could make out the heaving dance floor of sweaty, shiny chests and thrashing limbs gyrating at the back of the room, lit up sporadically by the bright flash of lasers on mirror balls, almost exactly as he'd envisaged earlier on.

Trying not to gawp like a fool, but unable to tear his eyes away from the throng of men, he felt suddenly sober as he desperately tried to take it all in, hungrily soaking it all up. He marvelled at the easy way everyone seemed to just be themselves, having a great time, laughing, joking, making out, as if they had nothing to hide. And in here, he realised they didn't, and neither did he.

Here he was totally anonymous, new in town, no overbearing father to disappoint, beginning a new life that he could make of whatever he wanted.

Noticing a few people were staring back at him as he loitered with intent by the door, he gulped down the wave of excitement suddenly overcoming him and averted his overly eager eyes, making his way straight to the bar. As he waited to be served, he kept his eyes facing forward, intent on the action behind him reflected in the mirror opposite. He found himself brazenly staring at all the handsome faces of the attractive men surrounding him at the bar, and a thrill ran all the way through him.

Taking a sip of the firey amber liquid now in his hand, he relished the sensation of its burning path down the back of his throat as he turned back to survey the room, swilling it round the glass to hear the satisfying crack of the ice as it cooled the alcohol before downing it in one. Picking up his second, he relaxed back against the bar, enjoying the proximity of the jostling throng vying for the attention of the barstaff, and his eyes returned once more to make out shapes through the darkness and smokey haze of the jam packed dance floor.

It was something akin to a heaving mass orgy taking place before his very eyes, and he was mesmerised. Feeling his body begin to slowly unwind as the spirits did their job, he found the heavy, pulsing bass pumping through him impossible to ignore as he suddenly discovered he was moving to the beat. He was itching to get out there, but he didn't have a clue where to begin, it wasn't like karaoke where you knew you just started at the beginning and stopped when you got to the end. This was about about feeling, something distinctly primal seemed to be surfacing, but the part of his brain that made those decisions was still sober enough to keep him and his instincts at bay by the relative safety of the bar.

As he contemplated his next move, he was jostled out of his reverie by someone squeezing in beside him to get served, the firm body continuing to move to the heavy beat as it pressed up against him.

"Oops, sorry!"

Looking round at the voice cheekily smirking its apologies, Grantaire found himself staring into sultry hooded blue eyes gazing at him through long lashes before roaming unabashedly up and down his body.

"S'okay…" Grantaire rumbled in return, discovering his brain to mouth capabilities had somewhat deserted him, the feel of this smouldering man stood pressed against him as he waited innocently at the bar rendering him completely speechless. He couldn't bear to look, but at the same time he couldn't tear his eyes away from the hot body, and the young man laughed as he turned to speak directly in his ear,

"Are you checking me out?"

Grantaire flushed and his eyes instantly found themselves fixed to the floor as he stammered.

"It's okay you know, it's not like I mind, it's why we're all here after all… isn't it?"

"Uh…"

"Besides, I did it on purpose you know,"

"What?"

"Bumped into you,"

Grantaire's booze fog suddenly seemed thicker than he'd realised as he struggled to comprehend what was going on, "Huh?" Surely he must've missed part of the conversation, unless, surely this unbelievably stunning guy wasn't hitting on lowly old him, was he? Impossible.

The young blond laughed again, cracking open the cap on his bottle of water and taking a few gulps. His eyes never left Grantaire as he regarded him with interest from under hooded lids, chuckling to himself as the bigger man in turn couldn't tear his gaze from his adams apple, bobbing with the action as he drank. Grantaire unconsciously licked his lips, intrigued by the movement under the tanned skin, only snapping out of it when he realised he was talking again.

"Did I spill your drink?"

"Uh…" Grantaire looked down at the empty glass in his hand, unsure if he had, or if maybe he'd just swallowed it all down in his excitement without realising.

"You don't do this very often, do you?"

"What?"

"Talk. Have conversations…" Grantaire was fixed with a cheeky smile again as his cheeks flushed even further than before, but the young man continued, "I saw you watching the dance floor, looks like fun, dontcha think? You're dying to have a go, I can tell…" he whispered right into Grantaire's ear this time, his hand on his shoulder as he leaned in, their chests practically flush and Grantaire could feel the heat radiating off him, it was intoxicating.

"So I came over to ask you why you're not, and if you want to…" he took another long swig of his bottle and Grantaire was fixed on the way his lips attached themselves to the neck.

He finally remembered he was meant to be formulating a response as he realised he was being looked at wryly, a perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in question at him at the cap was casually returned to the bottle, then suddenly his eyes fell out of their sockets in shock as he found his lips pressed against the ones he'd just been ogling, a tongue forcing its way in his mouth to find his own, lazily sucking it gently for a moment before pulling away.

"So you do have a tongue, just checking, I wasn't sure, so I thought I'd find out…"

"I don't know how to dance!" Grantaire suddenly blurted out, his now melted brain struggling to process what had just happened, and he found himself being subjected to the hottest pout he'd ever seen, puppy dog eyes batting lashes at him before the young man smirked at his expense, 

"You are just too cute," he laughed.

The warm breath on his neck sent a shiver through Grantaire like he'd never experienced before, increasing tenfold as he felt him leaning in again, pressing their bodies together as he started to move in time to the beat, his hands encouraging Grantaire to do the same, slowly building up the pace until they were moving together to the rhythm, and Grantaire found himself being led gradually away from the bar.

…..

Hours later, and Grantaire was lost in the feeling of the music dictating his every move, the bass owning him as he disappeared amongst the mass of heaving gyrating limbs, the only thing keeping him grounded was the feel of the young man moving against him, so lost was he in their own little world. The feel of the slight but muscular arms wrapping around his neck and the warm mouth seeking his own again sent a jolt of electricity through his body as their tongues danced together. His hips snapped forward of their own accord, his hands coming down to knead the firm denim clad arse, grinding himself into the matching heat. The moan it elicited from the succulent lips he was devouring went straight to his groin as he inadvertantly bucked forward, rocking his hips fervently, the friction almost too much to bear.

He wanted him, now. He needed him, now...

Next thing he knew, he was shooting his load down the back of the talented throat working expertly to accommodate it all, his back spasming hard against a cubicle door as the young man on his knees in front of him looked up into his eyes, tongue slowly licking the last drops as he retrieved his fingers from Grantaire's clenching interior. What the fuck just happened. His mind was blown.  
Standing up, the gorgeous blond stood in front of him and they looked at each other properly for the first time in the slightly brighter lighting of the dingy toilets. 

Suddenly, he was being kissed soundly, and tucking himself back in he reached for the door, turning around to look at Grantaire expectantly. 

"Ready?" he smirked, "I don't know about you but I sure as hell could do with a drink right about now,"

Grantaire was beyond coherent thought, his head still spinning from the mindblowing orgasm, his cock still hanging limply out the front of his jeans and his head resting back against the tiles. "You go ahead, I er… I just…"

"It's okay," he found himself kissed again as nimble fingers tucked him away and zipped him back up, smoothing his shirt down in front, "Whenever you're ready, I'll see you back out there, yeah?" he winked, and slipped out the door.

"Yeah," Grantaire nodded after him, sinking to the floor with his head in his hands as he realised the best orgasm of his life so far was just administered to him by a man in a toilet. A trifling matter. An amazing, gorgeous, man, had literally just blown his mind.

He wandered outside a few minutes later to smoke in the fire escape that masqueraded as a chill out zone, his 4am brain filled with images of dancing blue eyes and a shock of curly blond hair. As he leant against the mirrored mosaic wall, anyone watching would've seen the blissed-out expression he wore as the flicker of the zippo momentarily lit his face up. He cupped hands around the flame, protecting it from the cool breeze, welcoming after the stifling heat from the mass of bodies inside. He re-lived the past few hours in his mind, languidly blowing smoke rings into the air, a serene smile playing out across his lips. 

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, but upon discovering the heavy fire door had been closed firmly behind him, he set off for home, smiling stupidly the whole way, right up until he passed out, fully clothed, as soon as his head hit the pillow.

...

Saturday night found Grantaire completely exhausted, when he'd finally surfaced around noon, killer hangover in tow, and loads of unpacking to do, he'd set about it like a man posessed. The full colour slow motion replay of the night before carried him through, set on repeat in his mind all day long. But when he found himself opening his eyes, unaware he'd even closed them, disorientated and groggy on the couch, he was disappointed to discover it was already gone 10pm, and he'd scuppered his evening plans of a possible repeat performance. But as he sat devouring his chinese take-away a half hour later, a new lease of life took hold and he jumped in the shower, practically sprinting out the door before the new hour began.

He tried to look confident as he casually strolled along the street, but without the liquid courage of the night before he was actually shitting himself. He ducked into the first bar he came to, purely in order to swallow down a couple of hair of the dog doubles in quick succession to give him strength as he approached his destination.

Trying to muster the guts to go inside, he stood over the road for awhile, scoping the place out, hoping to catch a glimpse of … what was his name? 

He didn't even know! 

That in itself horrified yet thrilled him to the extent it spurred him on, and he crossed over and joined the queue before he had time to think any more about it.

Inside, he scanned the room as best he could with the ridiculously dim lighting, and without looking like he was desperate, heading straight to the same spot at the bar as he'd stood the night before. Drinks knocked back, new one in hand, he turned to survey the dance floor, almost falling over in excitement as he saw him, only just now emerging through the main door.

But his elation quickly turned to despair, for as he looked on, an older, taller, muscular blond man put his arm around the lithe shoulders, pulling him close to whisper something in his ear with a smile, and they both laughed uproariously together for a moment, looking more than happy and content in each others company.

Grantaire turned away in dismay, unable to bring himself to watch any more, he wasn't really surprised if he was honest with himself, and knocked back another couple of doubles. He didn't even bother to turn back to the room, couldn't bring himself to take a peek in the mirrors in front of him, he didn't want to know. What was he thinking anyway? Good looking guy like that, he'd been stupid to get his hopes up the way he did.

As he wallowed in his own misery, nursing his glass, seemingly finding the ice swirling around the bottom particularly fascinating, he didn't notice the slim figure squeeze in next to him and regard him with interest. It was a good few minutes before the newcomer rolled his eyes in a huff and found himself having to accidently-on-purpose bang into Grantaire no less than three times before he got the older man's attention.

As Grantaire finally looked up in annoyance, the retort died on his lips as his eyes met brilliant blue and his face lit up instead, despite all his best efforts to remain as cool calm and collected as humanly possible. Not possible at all as it turned out. "Hey,"

"Hey…" Grantaire was mesmerised already.

"Where'd you get to last night? I waited for you…" his voice trailed off, sounding uncertain for the first time, but Grantaire was quick to quell any doubts that might be crossing his mind.

"You did?" his voice was filled with genuine surprise, "Wow. That's uh, that's really sweet of you, wow,"

"Yeah… but that's okay, if that was all you wanted, that's cool…"

"No! No, not at all, I tried to get back in…" he smiled nervously, looking down at his feet embarrassed at what he had to admit, "I went outside for a smoke, and the door locked, they wouldn't let me back in round the front…" he looked back up into the now smiling eyes that were obviously trying not to laugh at his expense, "I wanted to come back in… honest!"

"Good! Here," he got out his phone and they swapped numbers, "Just in case it happens again, you know?" he said with a smirk. "Also, smoking? Ugh."

Grantaire coloured, groaning inwardly, vowing to give up that very instant, "I know, I know, I only started to piss my dad off when I went away for university... I keep meaning to stop, I never really liked it anyway."

"A rebel, I like that in a man," the trademark smirk appeared again, "So… where were we… ?" he leant in slowly and languidly captured Grantaire's lips in a searing kiss, "Somewhere about there, wasn't it?"

Grantaire's brain was temporarily rendered incapable of formulating a single coherent thought, let alone speech or movement as he felt his bottom lip tugged softly between the other man's teeth. He couldn't stop the moan inadvertantly released against the hot mouth, which with a chuckle of its own, the soft lips departed, leaving his own lips to form a pout in their wake as they subconsciously followed. Blinking rapidly as his brain kicked back into gear, he finally gulped and took a deep breath, "Yeah, yeah, I think so…"

The chuckle intensified as the warm lips found his own again briefly before long fingers curled around his hand, "Wanna dance some more?"

But it wasn't an inquiry it was a demand, as he found himself whisked away to the pumping, smoke machine overloaded orgy at the back of the room, just like the night before.

Hours later they emerged, laughing and sweaty and completely wrapped up in each other as they took a time out, desperate for some air, and to quench their thirst on a number of levels.

As they stood out the back in the dark, making sure the fire door was propped open, they passed a bottle of water between them and tentatively tried not to jump each other then and there in front of all and sundry.

"Want to... take this somewhere else?"

Grantaire froze, the words in one ear causing his brain to temporarily spasm out through the other and drift off into the night, but before he had a chance to scream yes from the rooftops, he found himself being led away, hand in hand, eagerly following the cheeky smile enticing him from his comfort zone once more. "Where are we going?"

But all he received in reply was a smirk as they reached the front, squinting into the brighter lights, their hands dropping to their sides instantly, and he stuffed them into his pockets nervously, following hesitantly as they stepped back into the real world, "Wait…"

"I know a place, c'mon,"

"Hang on a minute,"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing's wrong… it's just, look, I don't even know your name…"

"There you are!" A massive voice suddenly boomed in their ears, and Grantaire looked up in shock at the hulking figure of the enormous blond guy from earlier, even bigger up close than he looked before, "Enjolras, where you been hiding, hm? You heading off now mate?"

Grantaire received a questioning look from both of them for a second before Enjolras responded, "Yeah, I think so, and thanks again for the lift,"

"No probs, I'll catch you later… so who's this?"

Grantaire almost shrank under the scrutiny, the larger than life persona looming over him, "Grantaire," he all but squeaked, holding out his hand politely.

"Uh… Grantaire," Enjolras began, gesturing between them, "Bahorel. Bahorel, Grantaire." he said, trying not to laugh at Bahorel's amusement at the awkward expression on Grantaire's face.

"Pleased to meet you,"

"The pleasure is all mine… Grantaire," Bahorel drawled, purely to watch Grantaire further squirm, shaking the proffered hand with a smirk, clapping Enjolras on the back "You boys have fun now," he said with a wink, heading back up to the door.

"So…"

"So…"

"Enjolras...?"

"Grantaire...?"

"Yeah?" they both said it at the same time, laughing as they turned to make their way along the street.

"Look, uh… Enjolras, I live not far from here…"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah…"

"Sounds like a plan,"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

…

As soon as the door shut behind them they were all over each other, falling over the remnants of boxes strewn everywhere in their haste to get to the bedroom.

"You want me to do you? How do you want to play this?" Enjolras was sucking on his neck as they stumbled onto the bed, and Grantaire could only stammer in response,

"Uh… I'll follow your lead…"

Enjolras drew back, looking him in the eye for a moment as if he wanted to say something else, before shrugging and pushing him down, clambouring on top, devouring his mouth, undoing all the fastenings he could as fast as he could and dispensing with every item of clothing in the blink of an eye, all without breaking the kiss. Suddenly his hand reached down between them and he was jacking them together, before making his way down the trembling body beneath him, worshipping it with his mouth, until he finally reached the rock solid member in his hand.

"Hello again," he whispered, hot breath ghosting over the moist, swollen tip before he swirled his tongue around it, watching Grantaire arch his back and thrash about wildly. Reaching into his jeans he felt around for his wallet, pulling the foil square free and ripping it open with his teeth as he kept up the pace on Grantaire's cock with his other hand, unrolling down his straining shaft he slowly rubbed his well slicked head up and down over the quivering entrance, dipping in just a little further each time contact was made, before slowly starting to push inside. He felt Grantaire tense around him, and sped up his hand as he used every effort to keep his own body still. He could feel himself slipping in as Grantaire arched again, and Enjolras let him work it at his own pace, figuring he maybe hadn't done it this way round too often before. He leant forward, capturing his lips again in a gentle kiss that gradually worked itself up into a frenzied passion, setting a pace to match his hand as he felt Grantaire buck forward again, letting him slide the rest of the way inside the excruciatingly tight body.

"Oh my god…" Grantaire was whispering over and over as Enjolras began to move, rocking his hips slowly, concentrating on the furious kiss, letting Grantaire work his own hips forward as his body got used to the intrusion, "Fuck… please… just do it…"

"Yeah?" Enjolras asked, hips already moving of their own accord at the whispered demand, and it took all of three minutes before both of them were done, sticky, spent, panting in each others arms. 

Grantaire lay awake for ages, he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, his first time, finally, and it was as incredible as he'd always imagined. Even the fact that he was readily admitting he'd imagined it before was a revelation to him, a massive step, and he couldn't get enough of these feelings. _Fuck you dad..._ he couldn't help the bitter thought coming to the forefront momentarily before it dissipated the instant he looked down at the glorious vision beside him. 

He sighed happily, hugging the already sleeping Enjolras closer to him, more than happy to drift off into a contented slumber.

….

Neither of them saw much of the morning on Sunday, but Grantaire awoke to the new day with his cock in very capable hands, and his lips being cheekily nudged apart with gentle kisses. As his eyes finally fluttered open, straining to see properly in the dim room, it took him a moment to register the intense heat engulfing his loins and the weight slowly lowering itself down across his hips. Enjolras' fingers gripped tightly, nails digging into the firm skin of his shoulders as he linked his fingers behind his neck, easing forward slightly to draw him in for a teasing kiss.

"Morning," he breathed into his ear, fingers splayed on his chest as he pushed himself back upright, fully ensheathing Grantaire's straining shaft within his tight heat. Enjolras bit his lip, regarding Grantaire through his lashes and releasing a positively pornographic moan as he seated himself, the throaty growl almost sending Grantaire over the edge on its own as he slowly started to move.

Grantaire held his breath as Enjolras worked him into a frenzy, his peripheal vision blurring at the edges and running into a tunnel of clear sharp focus, his full attention on the image dead centre. Enjolras, cock in hand, head thrown back, chest heaving, was riding himself closer to his imminent release and Grantaire's eyes were fixed, they wouldn't have been anywhere else had you paid him.

"Grantaire…" the word barely reached the air, but seeing it on his lips as he pumped himself furiously was enough to bring Grantaire plummeting to the brink,

"Enjolras I'm…"

But Enjolras barely even registered the warning, let alone had a chance to respond before he was shooting his load all over the sheets yet again, his clenching heat clamping erratically, hard and fast, around Grantaire's twitching sex.

Grantaire felt like he'd been transported to a higher plane of consciousness as he felt his entire body stiffen with anticipation, his breath coming in laboured gasps as his chest heaved with the effort of staving off his climax until Enjolras' had run its course. But it seemed the younger man had other ideas as he regained his composure, staring down at Grantaire with a devillish smirk and clamping the tight heat of his inner recesses down hard and fast numerous times in quick succession.

"What are you waiting for Grantaire?" he whispered, nails digging in to the flesh at the top of his shoulders, "Come for me…"

The guttural roar that errupted from the very depths of Grantaire's soul brought him crashing back to reality as his release ripped through him, tremors like shockwaves running the length of his body as he convulsed violently, almost throwing Enjolras from him as he rode through his orgasm.

"Easy tiger!" Enjolras laughed, easing himself free as he rolled to the side, snaking an arm across Grantaire's middle and capturing his lips for another feverish kiss, "Fuck," he sighed, "I needed that!" he laughed again as he trailed his finger teasingly up and down the taut, still heaving stomach, waiting for Grantaire to get his breath back and return from wherever it was his mind had taken him. He glanced up at Grantaire who was opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish,

"You okay?" he laughed again as Grantaire finally turned to look at him,

"I …" his eyes were alight with something Enjolras couldn't quite place as he glanced at the clock, one of the few things Grantaire had managed to unpack.

"I have to go…" Enjolras peppered his face with kisses, "But I wanted to say thankyou…" he captured his lips again, lingering as long as he could before dragging himself away, "And I didn't want to just leave without saying goodbye…"

Grantaire watched as he pulled his clothes back on, checking himself in the mirror, looking around for the bathroom, inclining his head at the room in question as if asking for permission. Grantaire smiled at the gesture, stretching himself out lazily as he yawned contentedly.

He smiled again as Enjolras re emerged, patting his hair and rubbing his eyes, "Well," he said, smiling in return, perching himself on the edge of the bed for one final kiss. "I had a really nice time Grantaire,"

"Me too…"

"See you then…" he smirked again from the doorway, and was gone.

"Yeah, see you…" Grantaire smiled to himself as he whispered into his pillow again, rolling back over and drawing the covers around him as he closed his eyes, ready to start up the continuous replay of the newest addition to the movie reel in his head, to have Enjolras blow his mind all over again.


	2. I've Been Here The Whole Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday morning arrived far too soon... As it always does.
> 
> Enjolras' heart actually stopped beating for a second and he felt the urge to rub his eyes and look again...
> 
> He knew his jaw was on the floor and he was fighting every urge to run like the wind.

...

Monday morning arrived far too soon for anyone's liking, as it always does, but Enjolras groaned and rolled over, hitting the sleep button as his clock radio flashed, ridiculously loud, covering his head with his pillow as his mum shouted for him to get up. It was the first day back at school, 6th form college- his final year, and he couldn't be late. 

But he was so fucking tired, it had been such a big weekend, and last night, he just couldn't get this guy out of his head. 

Grantaire. 

They'd only just met, but he'd lain awake for hours going over their time together, working himself into a frenzy below his covers at the memory of taking his virgin hole. At least he thought he had, not that Grantaire had admitted as such, but it sure seemed that way. 

In fact, the more Enjolras thought about it, he wondered if it had been a weekend of firsts all round for Grantaire, he seemed so nervous and wide eyed about everything, even dancing. 

He smiled to himself, curling up into a ball as his phone alarm went off at the same time his mum shouted again, remembering the feel of the solid body beneath him, the shy smile, the deep rumble of that velvet voice that rolled over him like thunder and made his legs go weak at the knees. He wondered where exactly Grantaire was from, and when he'd arrived, not long ago judging by the multitude of boxes all over his house, and he dragged himself into the shower wondering if he'd ever see him again.

…

Slouching into his form room, he slumped down at his desk in defeat, ipod firmly in his ears, beanie pulled down low over his eyes and his conservative and restricting school blazer and itchy trousers covering up his body, Enjolras made sure his school persona was as different as possible to his weekend one. 

He had really done a lot of growing up this summer, in more ways than one, and it felt weird to be back pretending to be something he wasn't again. He felt so useless here, so trapped. At least he'd managed to bag a spot in the back row, in the far corner, where he could keep to himself and just get on with it. Form room was for nothing more than taking the attendance and catching up on last minute homework, which was something he found he never had to do, so would give him the chance every day to properly wake up and simultaneously daydream. 

He fiddled with his current track listing before the bell went and he had to put his iPod away, ignoring the room at large as it began to fill up. He looked up as someone unceremoniously dumped their stuff down on the desk next to him, ready to be annoyed, before sighing in relief as his friend Combeferre slid into the chair.

"Hello,"

"Hello yourself,"

"What're you doing here?"

"I guess a lot of people dropped out last year, so it seems everything's been merged a bit,"

"Really? I didn't even notice…" Enjolras pulled out his phone and scanned the timetable he'd been emailed, to check he was actually in the right room, "Oh yeah…"

Combeferre laughed, "Big weekend? You look totally out of it!"

"Yeee-sss," he drew the word out sheepishly, "Well you could say that…" Enjolras smirked, "Big summer in general…"

"Hmph," Combeferre snorted in amusement, "Don't remind me." They smirked at each other as they remembered how furious their parents were, bailing them out of the police station after the student fee protest and effectively banning them from seeing each other for the rest of the summer. "You're such a bad influence on me."

Enjolras snorted in return as Combeferre wondered out loud who their registration teacher was going to be, seeing as they didn't recognise the name on the timetable at all. Enjolras sank further down in his chair with a sigh as he looked at the clock, "Who cares, I just want to get this year over with,"

As he spoke the bell rang, "Finally…"

But what he wasn't expecting, was his eyes to literally fall out of his head as the door opened, the whole class turning to suss out the new teacher walking through. 

Enjolras' heart actually stopped beating for a second and he felt the urge to rub his eyes and look again to double check because this couldn't fucking be real. 

He knew his jaw was on the floor and he was fighting every urge to run like the wind.

It was Grantaire. 

It was fucking Grantaire. His teacher, was Grantaire. 

His. Teacher. Was. Grantaire.

Oh my fucking god. 

Grantaire, whose cock he'd had down the back of his throat on his knees in a fucking toilet cubicle of all places. Grantaire, whose arse he'd pounded through the mattress for the very first time. Grantaire, whose dreamy eyes, wayward raven curls, and gorgeous body had been constantly in his head ever since he'd left him, spent and smiling, in bed yesterday morning.

Oh my fucking god.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a newbie…" he heard Combeferre whisper beside him in glee, and as he slid further down in his seat, instead of taking his beanie off like he was meant to, he pulled it as far down as it was possible to go, hiding his blond curls completely. He vowed to shave them off at the very first opportunity.

It was imperative he completely avoid eye contact at all costs, but he managed to produce a grunted "Here!" as Grantaire called his formal name in that low rumble while taking attendance, Combeferre raised a puzzled eyebrow at him, but he found it impossible to take in anything else as his mind just continued to repeat his name over and over again. 

Fuck.

_I am so fucked right now._

It was the longest form room of his life, but somehow he managed to get through the whole class without Grantaire clocking him. He knew he looked completely different to how he did on the weekend, he'd completely discarded his tight, fashionable designer clothes that clung to him in all the right places in favour of the evil uniform that made it impossible to do anything but blend in.

He watched Grantaire like a hawk from under the brim of his peaked beanie, in August, so trendy, and he could tell he was nervous, he barely made eye contact with anyone at all let alone Enjolras, all slumped down no doubt projecting attitude galore from his back row hiding spot. He wondered how the hell he was going to get through this. He had to make sure Grantaire didn't notice… an impossible task, surely, but he had to try. Maybe he could switch classes? Or just not come? Or drop out altogether? His head was a mess and he just had to get out of there, the bell couldn't have come soon enough.

As soon as he got home he just threw himself down on his bed, buried his head under the pillow, and pretended the entire day hadn't happened. He was so on edge, he'd hardly paid a single bit of attention in any of his lessons. Not a good start to the year. He cast his mind back to his daydreams that morning, back to when everything was simple, when Grantaire wasn't his teacher and was just some hot guy he'd picked up and fucked on the weekend. 

But the problem was, Grantaire had been different from the start, he really liked him, he'd seemed… Enjolras couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was just something about him… he seemed really innocent somehow, and so fucking hot. He groaned again as he tried to figure out what to do, but short of never going back, running away, plastic surgery, he came up blank. He was just going to have to deal with it. And wear his beanie all year round. Now where were those clippers...

It was Grantaire he was really worried about though, he was going to be mortified when he realised… he'd have to completely ignore him at school, pretend he didn't notice, and totally avoid heading into the city, TigerTiger in particular, on the weekend.

How the hell was he going to get through this?

….

Day after day he sat through registration with his ridiculous beanie down low and his gruff 'Here!' the only word he uttered. Apart from to Combeferre of course. But even then he tried to keep quiet, luckily being first thing in the morning worked to his advantage in that regard. By Friday, Grantaire still hadn't noticed him somehow, he still hadn't discovered the truth, he couldn't bear to think about how Grantaire would react if he realised, especially here, in front of everyone. And Combeferre had discovered what Grantaire was actually there to teach, as well as taking A level classics he was also the newest and youngest addition to the physical education department as the new fencing instructor.

"Oh really?" Enjolras' interest piqued, "Fencing hm?" It explained his lean, toned physique, maybe he'd have to take in a tournament or two this year… or even try out… he grinned at the thought of the look on Grantaire's face if he turned up to do that, he'd never really do it, but it'd be priceless to see…

…..

It was Friday night, and on Friday nights, for the past few months, Enjolras had been heading to the city to stay at Bahorel's so he could _'find himself'_ , or, hit up the clubs. TigerTiger of course was his first choice, catering to his particular needs, but he just liked to get out on the dance floor and have some fun. If he managed to get any cock out of it then even better. But tonight, although he wanted to go, he wasn't sure if he should. He didn't want to run into Grantaire, he didn't want to cause trouble. He wondered if he should tell Bahorel about his dilemma, and on the drive over he seriously considered it.

"I fucked my teacher!"

"Hello Bahorel, remember Grantaire, my teacher?!"

"I wanna fuck him on that huge big desk he's got up there…"

NO! No no no no no.

Enjolras shook his head as he pulled up the driveway, debating what to do. It was all he thought about through dinner, and as he got ready to go, he almost stopped himself as he got to the front door.

"What the hell's up with you tonight man?" Bahorel looked up at him over the top of the newspaper from his spot on the couch.

Enjolras hesitated, biting his lip as he dabated internally, weighing up his options, "Nothing, see you tomorrow,"

"Okay, if you say so. See you then,"

He was meant to meet up with his clubbing buddies in a bar alongside TigerTiger, and he decided to try and convince them to head somewhere else afterwards instead. Anything to avoid confrontation…

So imagine his extreme surprise as he walked in the door, the very first person he saw was Grantaire, sitting alone at the bar, nursing a glass and looking fucking stunning, as usual.

He was back out the door before he even realised what he was doing, and back at Bahorel's sitting on the other couch in a huff, arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face as the older man regarded him in concern.

"Okay, spill,"

"No, it's ok, it's nothing, really." He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more, and Bahorel wasn't buying it for a second. Enjolras lay himself out and turned to watch the tv, trying to convey the fact that there was no way he was talking about this.

"Mate, what the fuck? Something's been eating you since you got here, and the fact that you're even here, now, _again_ , after you already left, what the fuck is going on?"

"Nothing, honest."

"Bullshit,"

"Please," Enjolras didn't make a habit of begging, "Just leave it,"

"Is it that bloke from last week? What's he done? Is he married? Has he hit you?"

"What? No! My god talk about over dramatic!" The irony of that statement wasn't lost on him, and the blush creeping up Enjolras' cheek at the mere mention of Grantaire caught Bahorel's attention.

"What's he done then?"

"Nothing, nothing wrong anyway, in fact, he's pretty much perfect…" Enjolras trailed off with a sigh, his eyes staring at the screen without seeing anything at all as he pictured how lonely Grantaire had looked sitting there at the bar like that. He wanted to go see him, he really did, but he couldn't. Simple as that.

"So he's good in the sack then?" Bahorel laughed as Enjolras levelled him with a glare.

"Seriously, what's the problem? Are you in trouble? Do you need my professional services?"

_'I really fucking hope not,'_ Enjolras thought as he sat up, swinging his legs around and raking his fingers through his hair in frustration, his face falling forward to rest his chin in his hands.

"I really like him."

"So? What's the…"

"He's a fucking teacher,"

Bahorel was silent for a moment, it all falling into place, "At your school?"

"No," he spat, "At yours." Enjolras glared at him again, before sighing in defeat.

"And you got to school on Monday…"

"And he walks in the door…"

"You both had a fucking heart attack, and have been in hiding ever since?"

"Almost… He didn't recognise me, at least not yet anyway, it's just a matter of time though really…"

"So he didn't see you?"

Enjolras just shook his head, "Not yet…"

"You can't hide forever mate,"

"Yeah I know, I just, I really don't know what to do…"

"Yeah… it's a tough one…"

"You can't tell anyone about this Bahorel, no one, I don't want him getting in trouble, it's not his fault… we honestly didn't know…"

"It's cool, it's cool…" he was thinking, trying desperately to recall the legal ramifications of cases like this he had heard about at work, technically there was nothing illegal about it, Enjolras was of age and more than capable of knowing and understanding his rights and issues surrounding consent, if Bahorel knew anything it was that he was never the one who needed reminding of such things, and Grantaire clearly wasn't all that much older than him, four years or so, but it was more the moral issue, the taboo making it the grey area it so blatantly was, Enjolras was quite clearly fucked. 

"Did you run into him just now? That why you're back here so damn fast?"

Enjolras nodded, "He didn't see me though, I guess I just freaked…"

"And ran?"

"Heh, fight or flight."

"Now what?"

"I don't know." he pulled out his phone as he felt it vibrating in his pocket, sighing as he glanced at the screen.

"You have to tell him mate."

"I know." He looked down at his phone again, running his thumb over the screen as he contemplated what to do next,

...

Message:

To: Enjolras

From: Grantaire

10:28pm

I was just wondering if you're going to be about tonite?

...

Sighing again, he reluctantly hit delete, before switching it off completely, throwing it down on the couch beside him and turning back to the tv.

...

Every day Enjolras walked into form room to hide at the back slumped down at his desk, and waited with baited breath for Grantaire to enter the class. He watched him as he talked easily to the other students, mentioned trials for his new fencing team amongst other things in the phys.ed. department, and gained more confidence as every day wore on. Enjolras could see everyone liked him, he was very much in demand, he was easy going, laid back, and obviously being completely gorgeous scored him plenty of points to boot. 

And Enjolras just watched. Here, he had no right to say anything. Here he was a totally different person, to the one Grantaire knew at least. That's how it felt to him anyway. This Enjolras was silent and studious, permanently-attached-to-his-ipod, and now days he could add sullen, moody and glaring to the list. He was miserable. Whereas the one Grantaire knew was totally different, and he wanted to keep it that way, because Enjolras kept that side of himself as far away from school as possible.

The last thing he wanted to do was get in any trouble, which making his two selves one and the same would definitely do, but he could only remain a faceless name in the back row for so long, he had to tell him, before he found out the hard way. He just didn't know how.

As he sat there every morning, daydreaming, staring, not staring, staring some more, he couldn't help but let his mind wander into dangerous territory.

He imagined Grantaire in the showers after a match, stripping off his sweaty coaches uniform, the fencing team long gone as he stepped naked under the spray, soaping himself up as Enjolras watched from afar, coming to help him rinse off all those hard to reach places, backs slamming him into the cold steel of the lockers afterwards as they fucked on the benches too…

and bent over that hulking great desk up the front of his classroom, arse in the air eagerly as Enjolras pumped into him from behind, shooting hot sticky ribbons together all over the dark wood, marking the desk as their own…

His thoughts drifted ahead to presentation night, fuck he'd love to do that to him then, sneaking off together to christen the classroom when no one was looking… under the pavilion during an inter school cricket match with hundreds of people right there, oblivious…

And graduation, the things they could do after that! He wouldn't be a student forever, and as soon as he matriculated he'd be turning 19, it wasn't that long to wait, was it? As long as they never saw each other at school, when he was this Enjolras, while he was still his student, Grantaire's form room class 2014… but next year…? He wouldn't be in Grantaire's class next year…

No. Just no.

............

The following weekend was meant to be his friend Courfeyrac's big birthday bash and Enjolras had promised him he'd go, upon pain of death, he'd known him since nursery after all so he declared himself within his rights to make such claims, but again he was worried about running into Grantaire. He'd managed to get through a whole week without drawing any attention to himself and after last weekend's, well, non-weekend, he was desperate for some fun and felt good as he walked into the bar.

Oh fuck no. 

Not again. It was a totally different bar this time too. Grantaire was sitting there just like he had been the week before, drowning his sorrows by the look of him.

He would've turned on his heel and disappeared in an instant again if it hadn't been for the very loud shout across the whole room as soon as he'd made to go.

"ENJOLRAS!"

Shit… he turned around, smiling as naturally as he could in the direction of his friends, signalling he was getting a drink in before joining them. He couldn't avoid Grantaire now, he knew he'd seen him, he hadn't turned around since Enjolras started heading in his direction, but he'd looked up same as everyone else did when the shout went out. Shit…

"Hey you…" Enjolras smiled softly, unsure whether maybe Grantaire was actually trying to avoid him too and had just been really good at pretending he hadn't recognised him at school. But as soon as he looked up, the way Grantaire's eyes lit up told him otherwise. His heart pounded soundly in his chest as he saw the way Grantaire looked at him, and he forgot he wasn't supposed to be staring at him dreamily like that in return.

"Hey…" Grantaire's voice was quiet, he looked like he wanted to say something else, but he didn't, just blushed faintly and looked back at his drink. "You want one?" he asked suddenly, gesturing his whisky toward the barman.

Enjolras shook his head, "Oh not for me, I'll just have half a Stella and black… thanks…"

Grantaire nodded and ordered himself the same again, looking up briefly, feeling his face flush even further as he realised Enjolras was looking at him.

"What?"

Enjolras shrugged, feining nonchalance, "What?" God this was so difficult.

Grantaire looked up at him again, Enjolras could see the masked hurt on his face as he hesitated, "I didn't see you around last week…"

_'Well, I saw you Grantaire, every fucking day. Have you any idea how hard that was to deal with? Seeing you there like that? Looking like that…'_

Enjolras bit his lip, "Yeah… I was pretty busy…" He debated which course of action to take, his own personal angels and demons fighting it out for him, _'yeah and it's going to have to stay that way, why am I even standing here now? Make your excuses, and get out while you still can, c'mon, stop being a pussy…'_

But he just stood there, staring some more, not going anywhere, he didn't really want to, the debate now falling on deaf ears as it was pushed further into the back of his mind. The demon won. Or was it the angel? He wasn't quite sure… he didn't really care anymore…

"Get up to much?"

"Uh, yeah, well no, not really, I didn't get out much, I was just hanging with Bahorel…"

"Oh, cool."

"How about you?" It was a loaded question.

"Oh… nothing really, sorting the house out…" Grantaire lied, he didn't mention that he'd actually been to nearly all the bars in the area and propped up the one in TigerTiger all night, both nights in fact, in the hope of seeing Enjolras again. He didn't have to.

"Yeah, that was one hell of a lot of boxes you've got yourself there,"

"Yeah…" Grantaire nodded, distracted, "Enjolras… I, look," he was conflicted, his mouth seemingly running away with itself without is permission, "I was really hoping I'd get to see you again…"

"Oh… well… it's a pretty sure thing we would, somewhere, you know? Like now…" Enjolras hadn't expected it to be his classroom first thing on the Monday morning but hey…

"Yeah," Grantaire smiled at him now, gaining more confidence at Enjolras' words, his easy demeanor, his soft smile…

And Enjolras had to remind himself as he stared back that this was his teacher, why the hell was he the one doing the reassuring?

"Grantaire, look, I need to talk to you about something, but first, I want you to know that I meant what I said to you…"

"About what?"

"I really did have a real nice time with you, when we first met…" But before he could finish Grantaire was on his feet, standing so close he could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Me too," 

They stared at each other for a moment, the look of desire more than evident on both their faces, despite Enjolras' attempt at the contrary. 

"Are you, um, are you going next door again? Do you wanna… dance with me?"

Enjolras looked over to his friends in the corner who were all looking on with interest at the exchange taking place, some of them had seen Grantaire his first night alone at the bar in TigerTiger and had more than actively encouraged Enjolras to go and work his magic on him, and were fully aware they'd been inseparable for the rest of the night.

He turned fully back to Grantaire, lowering his voice, "Grantaire, I really like you, I do, but, we... it's just that, I…" he sighed in frustration, shaking his head, he couldn't bring himself to say it, looking into Grantaire's already questioning eyes he just melted, "Look, see that lot over there," he inclined his head, "All smirking at us?"

"Uh, yes…"

"That bunch of reprobate's are who I'm here with."

Grantaire's face fell instantly, but Enjolras saw the way he almost physically tried to pull himself together, "Oh… right… anyone in particular?" he asked quietly,

"No, not like that, god no," Enjolras smiled at Grantaire's reaction, putting his hand on his arm to reassure him, feeling the shiver that ran through him and the trail of goosebumps that followed his touch, "They're my..." he looked over his shoulder and they were all staring back, raising their glasses simultaneously in salute when they saw him looking, "..so called friends, and yes, it's Courfeyrac's birthday so we were going to head out somewhere else after here, don't know where though…"

He bit his lip as Grantaire looked at him with such a look of hope in his eyes that he crumbled completely, his resolve completely weakening to the point where all rational thought, all his good intentions went flying out the window, "But next door sounds really good to me right now."

Enjolras' eyebrows actually raised themselves as he heard the words making their way out his mouth as his dick took over control of his brain, _'What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing? I must be fucking mad, totally insane, shit… shit shit shit!'_

But the smile that lit up Grantaire's face was worth it.

"We'll catch up with them later, c'mon, let's go…" and with a wink over his shoulder to one corner of the room in particular, they headed for the door, unable to stifle the grin making its way across his face as Courfeyrac, smiling and whistling all the while, shouted his objections at being abandoned on his birthday.

And eight hours later, he found himself with Grantaire's legs over his shoulders and his cock pounding into his tight, but not quite so virgin hole, almost crying as the release ripped through him, tearing his heart in two as he knew what he had to do, this had to end, he had to finish it, he had to do it, now. As he fell, spent, landing beside him on the bed, kissing him madly one last time before scrambling to get away from Grantaire's tender embrace, pulling on his clothes as fast as he possibly could, "I can't do this Grantaire, we have to stop, we can't, I'm sorry, I have to go..."

.............

Enjolras sat fidgeting in his seat on Monday morning as he waited for the bell to ring, waiting for Grantaire to walk through the door. 

He felt terrible for running out on him like that, just terrible, it'd been eating him up inside ever since, but he couldn't handle deceiving him any longer. He really liked him, and that was why he had to hurt him like this. Had to be cruel to be kind. He didn't want to do this, make it impossible for them to ever go back, but it was the only way, he just didn't trust himself to stay away if he didn't tell him somehow.

He took his beanie off, he put it back on, he took it off, ran his hands through his returning curls. Finally, he heard the door open and more people started to file in and take their seats noisily. He took his blazer off in preparation, he put it back on.

What the fuck was he doing? But no, stay calm.

Beanie on.

Ready.

Breathe.

Grantaire walked in a few minutes later, Enjolras appearing his normal self for the time being. As he listened to Grantaire's soft voice calling the attendance, Enjolras pulled out his phone, punishable by death at his school, quickly typing in a short text. As Grantaire sat back down at his desk and started rifling through some papers, Enjolras hit send, removed his stifling blazer and placed his beanie in front of him.

He ran his hands through his hair again, nervously undid the top few buttons of his suddenly too tight collar on his baggy white school shirt, loosening his tie, smoothing out the stiff material clinging to all the right places on his suddenly visible lithe body.

He was ready.

Or not.

...

Message:

To: Grantaire

From: Enjolras

08:38am

Hi. Please don't hate me. I'm so sorry for running out on you like that, I really didn't want to, but it's for the best, I'm so sorry. E

....................................

Message:  
To: Enjolras  
From: Grantaire  
08:41am

Hi, I didn't expect to hear from you again. What do you mean, it's for the best? cos I sure as hell don't understand, did I do something wrong Enjolras?

 

..................................... 

Enjolras looked up as he typed, seeing Grantaire turn his phone over and over in his palm, obviously waiting for a reply, looking at his watch as he worried his lip between his teeth and nervously tapped his foot.

......................................

 

Message:  
To: Grantaire  
From: Enjolras  
08:43am

No you didn't, in fact, you did everything perfectly, but there's something you need to know

 

.......................................

 

Message:  
To: Enjolras  
From: Grantaire  
08:44am

What is it? C'mon man, just put me outta my misery here, you know?

 

.........................................

 

Message:  
To: Grantaire  
From: Enjolras  
08:49am

First I just want you to know that I really like you, I did right from the start. I shouldn't have gone back for more like that, it was wrong, I knew it then and I know it more than ever right here, right now. I tried to tell you, and I tried to stay away, but I couldn't resist you, and I'm a coward, I'm so sorry, the last thing I want to do is get you in trouble. I should've told you sooner, as soon as I realised.

 

.....................................

 

Message:  
To: Enjolras  
From: Grantaire  
08:51am

Told me what? Realised what? What are you talking about?

 

.....................................

 

Message:  
To: Grantaire  
From: Enjolras  
08:52am

Stupid text character limits.

8:52am

Look at me Grantaire.

 

....................................

 

Message:  
To: Enjolras  
From: Grantaire  
08:54am

What? Enjolras, are you ok? You're not making sense, am I missing something here or what? Because I'm feeling pretty stupid right now, let me assure you.

 

.....................................

 

Message:  
To: Grantaire  
From: Enjolras  
08:56am

I'm sitting right here.

 

......................................

He sat with his hands clasped in front of him, his real self fully on display, just waiting for Grantaire to look up and realise.

......................................

 

Message:  
To: Grantaire  
From: Enjolras  
08:58am

I've been here the whole time Grantaire

 

.......................................

 

Grantaire finally looked up, wide, horrified eyes frantically searching the room to make it not true, but there he was, sitting right fucking there… how did he not see him before? How did he not notice? They stared at each other for what felt like the longest time, Grataire in horror, Enjolras the picture of melancholy, how did mere seconds feel like the passing of a lifetime? 

Everything that had happened between them flashed before Grantaire's eyes, like it was supposed to before you died, and Grantaire felt sick, sick to his stomach, like his life was actually over already, or may as well be.

The bell sounded, breaking their trance, and Grantaire was out of the room faster than any of the students, vomiting what was left of his life down the pan, on his knees in the nearest toilet. Ironic really.

 

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We don't need no education  
> We don't need no thought control  
> No dark sarcasm in the classroom  
> Teacher leave those kids alone  
> Hey, teacher, leave those kids alone


	3. It was the sole, lonely occupant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been the longest week of Grantaire's life.
> 
> He’d managed to explain away his throbbing head each day with fabricated murmurings of cold and flu, his red rimmed eyes flanked with deep purple bags adding conviction to the perfect cover for his nightly despair.
> 
>  
> 
> _We didn't know_
> 
>  
> 
> _We did nothing wrong_
> 
>  
> 
> _We didn't know_

... 

It had been the longest week of Grantaire’s life. 

On reflection, he had no idea how he’d even got through it. Although that bottle of Jack in his briefcase had helped somewhat… and he’d managed to explain away his throbbing head each day with fabricated murmurings of cold and flu, his red rimmed eyes flanked with deep purple bags adding conviction to the perfect cover for his nightly despair. And despite being perfectly aware of the fact that drinking himself into a stupor wasn’t going to solve anything, it certainly helped him forget, helped dull his senses to the point where he didn’t have to think about anything any more, helped him pass out in a deep state of blissful oblivion until his alarm cruelly ripped him back into reality again each morning… 

He just couldn’t believe it. Things had seemed so perfect… just when he’d finally started to let go, to be himself, to finally emerge blinking and bleary eyed out into the big wide world on his own away from the glowering scrutiny and endless disappointment of his overbearing father…

He thought he was finally free… and this is what happens. Why him? Why did this have to happen to him? Was it some kind of punishment? If such a thing as a so-called God actually existed he was definitely sitting up there pointing and laughing at him, some fucked up combination of His wrath, and his dad saying ‘I told you so’, jeering, mocking him for being so stupid, for really thinking he could make his own decisions of that magnitude and get away with it… he could hear his voice now, _‘this is what happens to people like you boy, people like that…’_

People like that. 

Like what? What did that make him? He didn’t know. It was killing him inside, eating him up, because as much as he tried to hide it, to deny it even to himself, all he knew for sure was that for the first time in his life, he really felt like he’d connected with another human being. And it was on another level entirely, Enjolras had literally blown his mind to the point where he felt there was no going back. He actually felt something.

And he still did.

There was certainly no instant switching off of the once dormant feelings that had slowly been awakened deep within his very soul, there was no sudden about turn and back to the way things were as if nothing had happened. 

Yeah he felt sick, sick to his very stomach, had done so ever since he found out, but not because of what happened mind you, not because of what they’d done, the moments they’d shared… no. Not that he’d ever admit it but that was all carefully and lovingly archived in his internal memory bank, the file locked away in the ‘memories to cherish’ section…

It was the sole, lonely occupant.

No, he felt sick because the true extent of the situation had hit him, and he definitely couldn’t shake that feeling that at any second everything could be destroyed forever. Everything was at stake, his job, his career, his father, his entire family...

He’d already lost Enjolras, and he would come to terms with that, well… eventually… hopefully… but everything else? He just didn’t know what he’d do if it all fell apart, he was teetering on the brink enough as it was.

And he really thought that everything was going so great there for awhile. For all of three minutes he’d been truly happy.

Enjolras had made him happy. He knew that. There was no point denying it, even if only to himself, and even if deep down he was worried it was far too soon to be having feelings the way he was for someone he’d only just met. He shook his head, banishing those thoughts back to the dark recesses of his brain, knowing there was no such thing as too soon, when the reality, without a doubt, was a resolute never.

But despite all his best efforts, he still couldn’t stop thinking about him. He had completely shaken Grantaire to his very core, his very foundations, and had truly made him feel alive for the first time in his life. His senses, his imagination, everything was stirring with new life.

He thought back to that first night, how he’d gone home, wandering the streets with a stupid grin on his face and images of Enjolras on his knees in front of him in that dirty toilet… smouldering eyes staring up through hooded lids… that wicked smirk on his lips as they closed around him… 

All his inhibitions had vanished at that very moment, thundering bass resounding in his ears through the cubicle door, the hum of the club in the distance becoming increasingly irrelevant as he gave himself over to his desires in that tiny confined space, his senses honing in to savour every delicious second of this new experience.

His mind had instantly been filled with answers to questions he hadn’t even known he’d had, and new questions were popping up one after the other out of nowhere and he couldn’t stop them even if he tried. How would it feel to trail his fingertips up and down someone else’s skin, the way Enjolras had done to him? Run them along someone else’s cock for the first time, to touch one that wasn’t his own? A rock solid length, pulsing with need, a need for him to touch it? He’d learnt all he could from his own, but what about one that had grown just for him, because of him, how would that make him feel? One that his touch had created? 

Questions reverberated around his still spinning mind, questions that caused all of the bloodcells in his entire body to have an instantaneous reunion in his nether regions.

He laughed to himself sadly as he remembered exactly how excited, how happy he felt that fateful first night, filled with exquisite anticipation of things to come. He thought back to his life at home, recalling the small number of girls his parents had insisted he chaperone to various social events, his senior school ball, and the few that had attempted to attach themselves to him throughout college. Not once had any of them captured his imagination, not like Enjolras did. Never.

Not once did he feel inclined to let them in, to bare his soul, a soul he felt Enjolras had understood without even trying.

Understood, empathised with perhaps, despite only catching a glimpse. Either that or he'd imagined the whole thing. But it felt like he saw the real Grataire hovering in the shadows and instead of running away and shunning him like he expected, he embraced him and came back for more. As different as they may have seemed on the surface he knew he definitely felt some kindred of spirit.

It was so different to anything else he’d ever experienced, the little he had that is. It was weird. It was like he was looking for something in every girl he met, and he didn’t know what it was, but he knew they didn’t have it anyway. No one did. And he didn’t know if they ever would. Until now.

Until Enjolras.

It was killing him. All these thoughts still constantly running rampant round his head, still so fresh, so raw, then seeing him sitting there like that, every day. 

Well, okay, not seeing him exactly, because he was doing his darndest to avoid looking even remotely in his direction, but just knowing he was there… the feeling in his gut was like a knife twisting and he felt the bile rise unbidden every time he thought about it, about him, about what they’d done…

It was like, it was almost as though it wasn’t even real… like it was a different life, like it was two different people entirely, which in a way it was. Because his Enjolras, the one he still desperately craved, was not the one sitting there in front of him every morning. This quiet, sullen kid, stormy eyes hidden under a ridiculously hipster beanie. It just wasn’t.

The Enjolras he knew was an amazing, confident man, with a smile that lit up his entire face and turned heads everywhere he went, with an amazing presence and that body, god that lean, lithe, body, those sparkling, mischievious eyes… eyes as blue as the sky…

He was certainly not like this, sunk down low in his chair, invisible in a sea of similarly attired sheep, brainwashed clones in their respective cliques, his clothes hiding him in the furthest corner of the room, avoiding all and sundry… avoiding him…

He sighed heavily, shaking himself from his thoughts. He knew Enjolras had done the right thing, it couldn’t go on, hell, he’d be out on his ear if it ever got out as it was… he just had no idea how he’d ever be able to make it through the year with him sitting right there…

 

…

 

Enjolras hadn’t seen Grantaire much since it had happened, partly due to the fact Grantaire had all but run from the room, but mostly because Enjolras had done some running of his own. For the rest of the week he struggled to get out of bed every morning, if at all, his mind swimming with images of Grantaire’s mortified face every long, turbulant night.

He just couldn’t face it. He’d attempted to go to his next class. He really had, but he found his legs had done what he knew his brain really wanted, and fled.

Not what his heart wanted however, which was nothing more than to sprint after Grantaire and take him in his arms and tell him he was sorry, that he wished it didn’t have to be this way, that it didn’t have to end like this. 

But it did. 

He knew it did. And there was nothing he could do about it. He knew that too.

But it didn’t stop the feeling of abject misery descending over him. He felt numb. The look on Grantaire’s face was haunting him already… he knew he should’ve told him sooner, he was kicking himself that he hadn’t, why did he succumb, why? But he knew why. It was easy. Because he wanted to.

He wanted him. How could he not? The man was stunning for starters, but there was just something about him, Grantaire wasn’t like other guys. 

In a way, he couldn’t understand why he was feeling like this, like there was actually something there, because it wasn’t like there was any time invested in their, well it could hardly be considered a relationship, even though Enjolras already felt like he wanted it to be and had thought, well, wished, _dreamed_ that it might one day be heading that way… yes he'd actually dreamt about it. And so what.

But in reality, it was barely more than a one night stand that just happened to occur on numerous occasions. _Yeah, you keep telling yourself that Enjolras…_ he knew he was only kidding himself if he let his mind think that way, because really, even after such a short period of time, he knew it was more than that, he knew it was different.

Grantaire was different.

And Enjolras really wished he’d been able to explore that further… explore him further… no, no no no, stop it, stop thinking like that… don’t torture yourself… 

But did he only feel like that because he’d felt some sense of power, a sense of being the one in control, the more experienced for a change?

He had no doubt in his mind about that, that Grantaire was a complete novice in that regard, and he wondered if that was the only reason his resolve was so quickly and completely overruled and allowed him to succumb so easily whenever he saw him, his psyche simply giving in and withdrawing all willpower because he actually wanted to continue the whole thing so badly, to delve into Grantaire’s inner workings, to see how he ticked, because he knew he could make him tick, oh yes, he certainly had some inner workings Enjolras would love to delve into and get properly accquainted with… introduce him to… no no no no stop it… just fucking stop. 

He couldn’t help the fact that his heart stopped beating every time he walked into the room, that he couldn’t take his eyes off him every single damn time he saw him. 

Every. Single. Day.

Damn him. 

He took his breath away, he really did. 

His thoughts drifted back to the very first time he laid eyes on him, standing alone at the bar, some instinctive urge willing his body to move to the beat even though he visibly looked as though he felt awkward and conspicuous about letting go like that, about wanting to…  
He remembered his incredulous eyes, nervous hands tightly grasping numerous shots of strong liquor continuously that he gulped in quick succession, completely unaware that all eyes were on him as he took in his obviously new surroundings.

Enjolras couldn’t have stopped himself had he tried, plus the added incentive that he knew he had to get in there before someone else did. So before he even thought about it he was standing beside him. He just had to know this man. 

He smiled at the memory of Grantaire’s face, his complete shock at being approached, his total inability to function as he got more and more flustered, the look of incredulous disbelief on his face as he stared up at him from that dirty cubicle floor, that shy, lopsided smile he couldn’t hide as the flush crept up his cheeks afterwards…

Enjolras sighed, it was so endearing. He wasn’t trying to be something he’s not, he was just himself. Just Grantaire. A gorgeous guy he picked up in a bar. Not his teacher for fucks sake, just Grantaire. It was so fucking unfair, why couldn’t he just be some guy? Some random guy he met randomly in some random place. Well that’s just it, he fucking was! That was the irony of it all and it fucking sucked!

And Enjolras figured Grantaire could be absolutely no more than 22, 21 even, if he hadn’t done post grad, he’d said it was his first job, fresh out of college… and Enjolras was one of the oldest in his year with his birthday right at the start of the summer holidays, the age was nothing! Nothing! And legal at that! 

But still it was something completely forbidden in a way society would never understand, just because of his chosen profession. Not to mention the fact everyone would just get the wrong idea and blow it all out of proportion. Enjolras was well aware of that much at the very least. Then add the whole gay thing to the mix on top of everything else... he couldn’t even bear to think about it. Grantaire would be crucified, no doubt about it.

It really did suck. The fates couldn’t be more cruel, because he really felt that here, he wasn’t even the same person that Grantaire knew, in fact he strived not to be, he tried his absolute hardest not to bring that person to school, ever. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what could happen, there was no way he was about to stand out from the crowd, not in this place, this town. That was the whole reason he went to stay with Bahorel in the city every weekend, somewhere he could let his guard down and really be himself with no one to judge him. And he knew that poor guy sitting up the front of that classroom, hiding wretchedly behind that desk, no, that wasn’t his Grantaire either.

His Grantaire, ha! He wished. But no, that wasn’t him at all.

Sure Enjolras hadn’t exactly had that much time to really get to know him, but he certainly knew that much. The man was a wreck, you only had to look at him, and it pained him to see him like that, knowing he caused it. He couldn’t stop blaming himself, even though there was nothing he could’ve done to prevent it… 

_we didn’t know…_

_we did nothing wrong…_

But Enjolras knew without a shadow of a doubt that nobody could ever find out. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin Grantaire’s career. He’d already ruined his life…

 

 

.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are the perfect drug  
> The perfect drug
> 
> Without you  
> Everything falls apart  
> Without you  
> Everything falls apart


	4. Put Two and Two Together, and Get it Completely Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire put his briefcase down...

Grantaire wearily put his briefcase down on the kitchen table, instantly retrieving the bottle from within with a haste not uncommon in one so desperate. Uncapping the top he paused, staring down at the hefty glass in his hands as if weighing up his options. He lightly shifted it distractedly from palm to palm, finally taking a huge swig, a trickle running down his chin that he angrily swiped away with the back of his hand. Sinking desolately onto the couch, he cut a lonely figure, the picture of abject despair.

It continued in much the same fashion for the next few weeks, only getting worse when Enjolras returned to school after initially disappearing off the face of the earth. Grantaire couldn’t really blame him. He wished he could do something similar. But this was his escape, this here in his hand…

Finally it all got to be a bit too much and he found himself staggering along the pavement late one Friday night, knowing already where his feet were taking him despite his brain not yet making that conscious decision. He just needed something more tonight. Something else. Something to take his mind off things.

A release.

He didn’t know what he was thinking as he entered the bar, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from darting around, scanning the faces regarding him with interest. He was eager yet hesitant at the same time, scared of what he might find… in vain it transpired. 

He breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Or was it disappointment… he couldn’t quite tell.  
He was aware of exactly what he was doing, yet hadn’t a clue as to why when the tall, dark haired man pushed a drink into his hand. He was oblivious to the less than friendly look on the other man’s face, a face that should’ve been somewhat familiar to him had he had all his wits about him.

“Who're you?” he slurred. His words already running together from the effects of his own earlier indulgences, yet he still found himself laughing, like it was the funniest thing in the world when he was taken by the hand and led through the throng towards the dancefloor. Little did he know, there were more than one pair of eyes following his every move.

Bahorel sat back and watched the spectacle that was an off-his-face Grantaire from his seat in the corner, wondering exactly what it was that Enjolras’ friends were looking so thunderous about. He debated texting Enjolras and telling him to get his butt on down here before Grantaire succumbed to the seemingly enticing lure of his buddies. All of them it seemed. 

He thought maybe Enjolras had asked them to look out for him or something, but he knew he hadn’t told them the real truth as to why he’d stopped seeing Grantaire and stopped going out altogether… yet that didn’t explain the predatory and somewhat murderous look on their faces. 

Knowing how protective this lot could be of their own, he feared the worst, that they’d put two and two together and got it completely wrong, so he kept an eye on Grantaire from afar, for Enjolras’ sake. And hell, if the dude didn’t just seem like a nice guy, and he could see how cut up they both obviously were about everything that had happened. 

He spied him later on when he was taking a leak, coming out of a cubicle and looking extremely worse for wear, Bahorel couldn’t help but wonder in which capacity exactly as he watched him sway, glassy eyed, staggering against the wall as he attempted to do up his fly.

He lost sight of him for awhile as his own group of friends toasted the birthday boy they were all there for, but found him again a bit later when he went outside for a smoke.

‘Fucking hell…’ he swore under his breath as he saw him slumped on the ground in a corner, jeans round his knees, shirt ripped at the collar. It all looked to be administered during the throes of passion, of some kind, wanted or unwanted he couldn’t be sure. His heart went out to him, on Enjolras’ behalf, as he cast a cursory glance over him to check for damage before helping him back to his feet.

“Grantaire? C’mon man, get the fuck out of here fella, go home, go on now,”

He thought he saw a flicker of recognition turn to abject fear as his glassy eyes widened momentarily, 

“It’s okay, I’m not gonna kill you, I promise,” he couldn’t resist a smirk as the eyes now narrowed suspiciously, “Now get outta here. Don’t make me carry you.”

He watched as he staggered out through the back gate, the same one he got locked out of last time, stopping briefly to turn back to raise his finger in the air as if he’d only just realised who it was, but as he opened his mouth to speak, his stomach chose that very moment to evacuate its contents. Bahorel held up his hands in mock surrender, backing into the open doorway as he stubbed out the last of his smoke, “You’re on your own with that one mate, now go on, get,”

…

It was a few hours later when Bahorel finally left the party, taking the side streets home and whistling to himself as he rolled a joint and swiftly made his way down the pavement. He’d wisely left his car at home, correctly anticipating the copious amounts he’d drink, and knowing he was flying out for a job in a couple of hours, he just figured he’d sleep on the plane and catch a cab. He was just lighting up when he heard the sound of footsteps pounding the pavement up ahead and saw an ominous looking bundle of clothes half hidden behind a bus shelter.

“What the fuck…” 

He ran over with his heart racing, slowing as he approached, “Shit, Grantaire? Grantaire! Fuck, fuck!” 

His jeans were once again around his knees, and Bahorel avoided looking at his bare arse with a grimace as he tried to determine, once again, whether this was a clumsy attempt at a piss and passing out, or something altogether more sinister. He got his answer soon enough when he rolled him over, blood pouring from a gash above his eye, his nose looking tender and swollen and his ribs already darkening to an ugly purple all along his left side. But he was breathing, and that was the main thing.

.....

By the time they left the hospital four hours later, Bahorel had already missed his flight, and Grantaire was still drunk and completely incoherent. He was bandaged up and feeling sorry for himself, his ribs strapped and stitches above his eye, but try as he might, Bahorel could not get Grantaire’s address out of him for love nor money. He kept rabbiting on about Cornwall and don’t tell his dad, he can’t go back there and blah blah blah.

Bahorel felt creepy as he searched his pockets for anything that might contain his address, but it looked like his wallet and phone were both gone. He tried Enjolras’ mobile somewhere in the region of 400 times to see if he could remember where he lived, but to no avail, being 8am it was fair and reasonable to assume he was in a slumber of his own.

With an exasperated growl, and pushing Grantaire’s lolling head out of range of drooling on his shoulder, he ordered the cab to just take them back to his.

It was the last thing he wanted to do, just dumping him on Enjolras like this, especially under the circumstances, but he had another plane to catch and there was no way he was fucking around babysitting Grantaire any longer. At the very least he could get Enjolras to drive him home. 

But he frowned at that, realising Grantaire didn’t appear to have any front door keys in his pockets either. Did he go out with a jacket containing all these missing items? Or was he robbed? But he figured he’d let Enjolras worry about that later as they drove up the drive, Bahorel literally carrying Grantaire to the front door, banging on it with his foot and shouting for Enjolras to let them in as he struggled under his dead weight.

Enjolras’ eyes were practically out on stalks as he peered through the spy hole, just about passing out on the spot as Grantaire filled the entire thing. He opened the door a crack, Bahorel growling at him to get out the fucking way as he heaved Grantaire through and headed straight for the spare bedroom.

Hovering in the doorway and nervously shifting from foot to foot, Enjolras watched in horror as the extent of Grantaire’s injuries were revealed.

“What the fuck have you done?!” he practically whispered, his voice lost somewhere in the back of his throat.

“It wasn’t me you fuckwit,” Bahorel growled,

“I was talking to him,”

“Well there’s no point in doing that now is there? Look at the state of him, fucking idiot,”

“He’s not!”

“I meant you!” Bahorel sighed impatiently, raking a hand over his short platinum hair as he finished sorting Grantaire out. “I know he’s not, okay? But look, he’s fucking asking for trouble if he keeps this up Enjolras,” At the gasp that followed he sighed, exasperated, “I’m not saying he actually asked for it, but, well, can’t deny it, he brought it on himself…”

“What happened?” Enjolras was quiet, eyes fixed to the forlorn figure in the middle of the bed, and Bahorel wasn’t sure how to answer with the extent of his suspicions about Enjolras’ own friends and how much he should reveal.

He filled him in as best he could, immediately leaving for the airport a few minutes later when his cab honked from out the front, but not without a list of strict instructions about getting him out of there as soon as he woke up, hissed sternly as he walked out the door.

“…and don’t you fucking dare do anything that’s going to bring the Met around here Enjolras, got it?”

“I got it, I got it…”

“I’m serious Enjolras.”

“I’m not fucking stupid Bahorel!”

“I know, I’m just saying…”

“I know! Fuck! I got it, ok? Fuck.”

“Enjolras…” Bahorel’s voice softened as he turned back one last time,

“Bahorel, he’s in no fit state to do anything! I'm not going to jump his bones in the spare bedroom if that's what you're worried about!” Enjolras’ whisper was rising to a crescendo as he stalked after him, “Even if he wanted to!”

Bahorel merely fixed him with a sceptically raised eyebrow as he walked backwards down the drive, “It’s you I’m talking about!”

“Fuck you!”

Enjolras sighed, leaning back against the door and closing his eyes. Fuck fuck fuck. He really didn’t have a clue what to do now. He stood in the living room, hovering by the door and wringing his hands in worry, retracing his steps to and from the couch every few minutes, sitting down only to be on his feet again before he even realised what he was doing. 

He really wasn’t sure what to do, Gramtaire was out cold, but he wanted to go to him so badly it hurt, he was on the verge of tearing his hair out as he paced up and down.

How dare Bahorel go on at him like that! As if he’d even dream of going in there and seducing him, because he knew that’s what Bahorel was getting at, and he felt almost hysterical with worry, what the fuck had really happened? Did Grantaire have any idea who did this to him? So many questions…

He wondered if he should call the police to report that he'd been beaten, when Grantaire woke up, then quickly decided against it, for now at least. There was no telling what an out of it, still drunk Grantaire might say. The last thing he wanted was any slip of the tongue that might give them away…

Finally he sat down, turning on the tv and flicking channels to try distract him from thoughts of the man passed out in the room down the hall. Before he knew it he’d been through every single channel, barely resting on one long enough to even register what was on the screen. With an exasperated scowl he threw the remote down, crossing his arms in frustration across his chest.

He didn’t know why he was so angry. He was worried, and didn’t know what to do, he felt completely hopeless, but more than that he was extremely anxious about what Grantaire’s reaction might be. Waking to find himself in a strange room? Yeah, for starters, that was enough to freak a man out, but what about how he might react when he found out exactly whose room it was…

He didn’t want him to panic, to wake up and think he’d been kidnapped! He wasn’t sure if he was being stupid and paranoid or not, he didn’t even know how much Grantaire remembered from the night before, he might know exactly where he is and how he got here, but just have been too out of it to care.

He decided to scrawl a note, explaining as much as he could and leave it by the bed, so at least if he didn’t remember anything, Grantaire wouldn’t freak out when he woke up and had no idea where he was. Well, freak out too bad…

As he crept quietly towards to the door, he could already feel his resolve weakening, he hesitated outside, and the longer he stood there the less he felt he could go in. He decided to just push the note underneath, and sat back against the opposite wall, almost shaking as he laughed to himself about how jumpy he was. He knew he was being over sensitive, it wasn’t like the police were going to bash the door down just because he looked at Grantaire.

He sighed in resignation as he pulled his knees up, cradling his head in his hands and deciding to just sit here and wait it out, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Like what, well, he didn’t exactly know, but he figured he’d just wait anyway.

Barely ten minutes had passed and he found himself drifting off, getting lost in memories of their very short time together. He liked Grantaire, he liked him a lot, and he really wished things could be different. But they weren’t, and there was nothing he could do about it, so instead of dwelling on the present and how much it sucked, he decided to stay firmly rooted in the past and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the cool plaster wall as daydreams washed over him, a slideshow of images taking over his mind.

....

He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, slumped against the wall like that, and he didn’t know what woke him up. He was stiff and sore and sitting in an awkward position, head slumped to the side, and he wondered why on earth he was sitting out here on the floor. It all came back to him in a flash of panic as he jumped up, realising he could no longer hear the reassuring sound of the steady snore previously coming from the other side of the door. 

Hesitantly pushing it slightly ajar, his eyes fell on the figure curled up in the middle of the bed. Roaming over his features, taking in the dressing across his deeply furrowed brow, his still beautiful face looking troubled even in sleep, and just as he was about to walk through, Grantaire snorted loudly in mid drunken splutter, causing Enjolras to jump out of his skin and quickly retreat. 

Laughing to himself as his heart rate returned to normal, he tried again, he really was on-edge about this. Picking up the note from where it had landed on the floor, he cautiously walked forwards, one hesitant step after another, ready this time for any unexpected drunken utterances.

But what he wasn’t ready for, was Grantaire releasing a forlorn sigh of the most epic proportions that Enjolras had ever heard. His heart clenched and his chest felt tight, and he bit his lip as he approached.

“Who could ever do something like this to you Grantaire?” he sighed heavily himself, placing the note on the bedside table and pausing at the edge of the bed, only just managing to stop himself from softly running his thumb across the flushed cheekbone, before pulling his arm away quickly and hurrying back to the door, finding that once he got there he was quite unable to bring himself to go through. 

He figured that being there when he awoke might in fact be a better plan, not having to leave him to wake up and panic, only to then find a note first before he had a clue what was going on...

He realised as he sank to the floor, that it was probably more for his own peace of mind than Grantaire’s, and he rested his chin on his knees, hugging them to his chest as he watched on in concern, counting each time the duvet rose and fell with each steady breath.

....

 

Tentatively drawing up the armchair to the edge of the bed, Enjolras searched Grantaire’s face in concern after a particularly violent coughing fit that he was positive would rouse him, or at the very least induce some nice vomiting. He pulled the bin within easy reach just in case and looked around the room, almost as though fearful someone would see him, _‘Just for a minute, just to make sure he’s okay…’_

He stared down at him, watching with increasing concern as his eyelashes fluttered and his breathing quickened towards another blustery fit, and without even realising what he was doing, he gently lifted Grantaire’s large hand from on top of the covers, resting their palms together, rubbing his cheek against the soft skin on the back of his hand as he linked their fingers, biting his lip as his stomach turned itself inside out.

He sat there quietly for quite some time, just holding Grantaire’s hand and watching his beautiful features go through a plethora of expressions as he slept. He went and made himself a pot of strong coffee, a plate of sandwiches, and grabbed a few bottles of water, settling himself down in the armchair, ready for the long haul. 

Grantaire hadn’t even stirred when he returned, and Enjolras stared down at him sadly, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he quietly snored away, breathing heavily and steadily.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a club and you'd like to go  
> You could meet somebody  
> Who really loves you  
> So you go and you stand on your own  
> And you leave on your own  
> And you go home  
> And you cry and you want to die


	5. As Heavy as Iron Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He tried to process what had happened, not sure if his head was swimming from the sheer magnitude of it all, or from the residual alcohol still posing as his bloodstream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arghhhh these two! They are killing me in this fic, killllling me, this chapter made me dead. Very dead. *spasm* I couldn't decide which way I wanted to take it, but they kinda decided for me I guess...? If anyone has any thoughts about the possible direction these 2 could take, feel free to enlighten me!  
> And sorry to the 2 people who told me that they don't like the story because of my Enjolras. Sorry :(
> 
> But a massively massive thankyou to everyone who has read it so far, appreciated so very muchly! xx
> 
> Ps, I love the song on soundcloud in the end notes, it screams Grantaire to me, what do you think?

Grantaire could feel his eyelids attempt to prise themselves open, as heavy as iron doors, the excruciatingly bright light seeping in through even the tiniest crack causing them to instantly scrunch back up as tight as possible. The sequence repeated itself numerous times before he gave up, his brain ticking over as he stared into the blackness behind his eyes, waiting for his pupils to adjust to the light and his groggy mind to become clear enough to provide him with something vaguely resembling coherent thought.

He could feel a heavy distribution of weight along his arm, warmth radiating out to the tips of his fingers, fingers he gradually realised he had difficulty moving. Yet despite initial alarm bells ringing at his inability to pinpoint what was holding him down, something in his instinct had distinguished that it was somehow okay, and he relaxed into the sensation of calm that overtook him at that revelation.

But the feeling didn’t last for long, as he suddenly realised he was incredibly sore, sore all over his entire body… 

His eyes flew open and he sat up far too quickly, gasping first at the piercing brightness stabbing his eyes before registering the sharp pain ripping through his torso, only to be compounded by the sudden pounding throb in his head.

Purely out of reflex to hold his aching body, he made to tear his arm away from the comforting warmth it was encased in, eyes focussing for the first time on the sleeping form cradling his hand, gently grasped between his own, fingers entwined.

He gasped, coughing uncontrollably as too much air spluttered into his lungs and he stared in shock, the wild eyed panic of the man before him roused suddenly from his slumber matching the look in his own eyes, and he tried to scramble away. But Grantaire’s lungs had other ideas as he attempted to heave himself over the edge of the bed.

But this was exactly what Enjolras had anticipated, and springing into action he was there in a shot, the metal bin catching the worst of the remnants of Grantaire’s stomach.

But Grantaire far from appreciated the gesture, his gut reaction to lash out between heaving gasps,  
“Get the fuck away from me! What the fuck are you doing?” He barely had time to register the distraught look on Enjolras’ face or the piece of paper thrown at him before burying himself in his bucket once more.

The next time he looked up, Enjolras had gone.

As his brain struggled to catch up and find a reason, any reason, for this situation, a million questions flew around his head, where was he? Why was he here? Surely not… they didn’t… they couldn’t have…? Fuuuuck no…

That thought process couldn’t have ended much worse, culminating in another bout of violent heaving, the implications of that entire scenario instantly ensuring another massive wave of sickness washed over him…

…did anyone see them?

Fuck, anyone could’ve seen them! Why didn’t Enjolras stop them? Fuck! He didn’t even remember seeing Enjolras in the club… in fact, he couldn’t remember a thing… fuck…

Fuck.

But then… why was he hurt? He clutched desperately at his ribs as his heaving chest felt like it was being ripped out, his fingertips feeling the sturdy strapping binding his body under his shirt. He glanced down, eyes widening in horror at the blood that had dried all down his arm. 

What the fuck had happened to him? 

He stared for a moment, his body slowly reminding him of various other aches and pains emanating from all over, all demanding his attention.

His nose felt tender, his eyes raw, his throat like it had been through a sandblaster, and what was that smell?

He finally found the courage to put the bin down, eyes taking in his surroundings for the first time, the armchair by the bed, the remnants of a tray of food, falling finally to the piece of paper lying haphazardly on the bedspread. He picked it up, curious, vaguely registering that Enjolras had flung it at him before fleeing the room, his eyes skimming over the hastily scrawled words.

Fuck. Shit. Oh my fucking god. So he hadn’t just let himself drunkenly fuck Enjolras again as he’d feared, but the slight pull of torn skin he felt as he eased himself to the side of the bed definitely set off alarm bells somewhere in the back of his mind. 

He set the note aside, precariously balancing himself on the edge of the mattress for a moment, steadying himself as his feet found the floor. He tried to process what had happened, not sure if his head was swimming from the sheer magnitude of it all, or from the residual alcohol still posing as his bloodstream.

Stomach heaving once again, he reached for the bin, the contents only serving to encourage further addition via uncontrollable retching.

Finally calming, disgusted at the state he now found himself in, he wanted to just curl up in shame and die under the covers of the comfortable bed. In fact if it wasn’t for him being, not in his own, but in Bahorel’s generously offered guest room bed, that’s probably exactly what he’d be doing. Instead, he gingerly stood up, intending to find Enjolras and apologise, for everything. 

One thing he was certain of, he didn’t expect to be forgiven for inflicting himself upon them like this any time soon. So what he didn’t expect to find, was Enjolras practically beside himself with worry that Grantaire wouldn’t forgive him. 

When he found him on the couch, arms tight around his knees, he almost cowered when Grantaire appeared in the doorway, and they stared awkwardly at one another for a few agonising long moments before Enjolras started apologising over and over for being there, for helping. He instantly started rambling that he promised he hadn’t done anything, he wasn’t going to try anything, he wouldn’t say a word, no one knew he was there…

“Enjolras, stop, I’m so, so sorry,”

“What for? You haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Just for…” Grantaire cringed, “Being a fucking idiot, for… for being here…” he finished quietly.

Enjolras’ heart sank at the last words and he looked away, not wanting Grantaire to see how much that hurt him, despite knowing it was true, and it was for the best that he felt that way,  
“It’s okay…”

“No, it’s not.” Grantaire hung his head, once again taking in the sight of himself and flushing in shame, “Look at me! I’m pathetic.”

“You’re not.” Enjolras was quick to disagree, almost indignantly on his behalf, shaking his head vehemently as he got up, making his way to where Grantaire leant against the doorframe, “Are… are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with genuine concern and his eyes searching for visible evidence as he approached, his spatial awareness stopping him just shy of invading the teacher/student boundary.

Grantaire looked down at himself, avoiding eye contact and flushing under the scrutiny, the slight burn every time he moved making him wonder whether he was okay or not, “I think so…”

“What happened?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“Not a lot.” Shrugging, Grantaire shook his head, “I uh, I read your note… um, yeah, anything else I should know?”

It was Enjolras’ turn to shrug apologetically, “I wasn’t there… it was Bahorel, he…”

“Saved me?” Grantaire scoffed at his own inability to look after himself,

“Well… he found you.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“You're really not… you needed help Grantaire.”

“I’m pathetic.”

“Stop it! You’re not! You’ve had a lot on your mind…”

“You don’t say!” Grantaire hadn’t intended the words to be laced with so much venom, and he cringed inwardly as he watched Enjolras’ face fall.

“I’m so sorry, I just, I… fuck.” Enjolras swore under his breath, “Grantaire I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know what to do!”

“I know! I know okay?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Yeah.” Grantaire sighed dramatically, “So am I.”

“I never meant to hurt you…”

“Enjolras…” he couldn't help it sound like the warning it was,

“Grantaire I really liked you! I still do for fucks sake, I never wanted any of this to happen!”

“Don’t!” Grantaire spat, “Enjolras, fuck… You don't get to do this to me ok? Not now, I was doing ok, you know? So don’t even go there, just, fuck…”

“Sorry.”

An uncomfortable silence grew between them as they both stood there refusing to look at each other, until Grantaire finally sighed, “I should go.”

He hesitated for the briefest second, as if he wanted to say something else, before slowly prising himself off the doorframe. He winced at the strain on his ribs and the burning pull in his stretched skin, and Enjolras had to bite his tongue and refrain from begging him not to.

_'Don’t go… Grantaire please… stay with me?'_

He watched him from the corner of his eye as he haltingly made his way back to his room, suddenly reminded of the painkillers Joly at the hospital had given to Bahorel for when he sobered up.

‘Shit,’ he thought as he turned to follow him, hurrying to get them only to hesitate, before chucking them across the bed, “Here… you’re supposed to take them with food…”

He wanted to tell him to stay, to tell him he’d make him something to eat, that he’d look after him… Instead, he churlishly suggested he have a shower first before inflicting himself on the outside world in that state.

At Grantaire’s raised eyebrow he wordlessly passed him a clean towel from the wardrobe, muttering something about Bahorel probably having some old clothes that’ll fit him.

When he returned, he could hear the sound of the shower from the ensuite and laid the clothes out on the bed with a huff. He quickly retreated to the kitchen, deciding he’d feel far too uncomfortable being there when Grantaire came out, despite their previous naked encounters… and he figured the least he could do was finish playing the good samaritan. 

He knocked together a round of sandwiches and made a pot of strong coffee and was just debating whether or not to take them in on a tray or if that was way too desperate, when Grantaire came back in, hesitating in the doorway.

Enjolras froze for a second, taking in the comical sight of him dwarfed by Bahorel’s baggy clothes, then turned and pretended to busy himself putting things away.

“Hey…”

“Hey.”

“Enjolras, I …”

“You need to take them with food…” he blurted out, pushing the tray across the counter, biting his lip and stepping back quickly.

Grantaire looked surprised, “Uh, th…”

“Do you take milk?” Enjolras poured him a mug of coffee and hurried to the fridge, pausing, “Should I know that already?”

“Uh…”

“Well, here, just in case, have as much as you need.”

“Okay th…”

“So the clothes fit?”

Grantaire looked down at himself, “Uh, yeah…”

“Good, that’s good, because I don’t have anything spare of mine here, you know? Not that it'd necessarily fit anyway though...”

“Enjolras…”

“Well, it might, maybe some of the stuff I’ve got for school…”

“Enjolras!”

“But that’s all at home…” he continued to bustle about doing nothing in particular, nervous energy practically bouncing off the walls,

“Enjolras…” he reached out and grabbed his wrists, “Enjolras stop!”

“I… I uh…”

“Look at me,” Grantaire said softly,

Enjolras’ eyes briefly flickered up from the floor, biting his lip as they met Grantaire’s hesitantly for a second, settling finally on their hands, fingers millimetres away from entwining, itching to do so, 

“Thankyou.”

Enjolras looked up at him, wondering why he suddenly felt as though his stomach was folding itself inside out when their eyes met,

“Eat.” he ordered, breaking away and pouring himself a coffee, “Then I’ll drive you home.”

“Actually, I was wondering… I mean, there’s something…” Grantaire trailed off, taking a large swig from the mug he cradled in both hands before running his palms over his mess of curls, wincing in pain at the movement.  
He was clearly torn about whatever it was he wanted to say, and Enjolras wondered briefly what it was before Grantaire flinched again and he quickly went and got the painkillers from his room. 

Pushing them across the counter top and refilling his mug, he watched as Grantaire cracked a couple from the silver foil into his palm, “Are you okay?”

It was Grantaire’s turn to falter at the question, not going unnoticed by Enjolras, “Grantaire?” he prompted gently,

“Yeah, well, you know… but I’ll live,” he responded a little too brightly for Enjolras' liking, unable to hide the frown that followed as the sight of the blood washing down the drain flashed through his mind.

Enjolras watched him carefully, “Look, Bahorel told me everything… just in case… you know? He uh, he suspected…”

“Yeah um,” Grantaire cut him off quickly, “That reminds me, I was going to ask… did he uh, did he happen to know what happened to my wallet? And uh, and my keys?”  
Grantaire had interrupted a little too hastily, neatly changing the subject, a fact that only served to confirm Enjolras’ suspicions, but it was something that Bahorel had in fact mentioned to him.

“Look, don’t panic okay…” 

Just those words alone made Gramtaire’s eyes widen in concern, “I guess someone found your jacket and handed it in, Bahorel rang and asked at the club, he knows the guys that run the place, we can pick them up when I drop you off.”

“Okay,” Grantaire nodded, breathing a visible sigh of relief, “Okay, thanks.” he shoved the first of his untouched sandwiches in his mouth, suddenly finding his appetite had returned, “I’ll er, I’ll just…”

“Yeah, you finish that, there’s plenty more, help yourself,” he indicated the fridge with a nod and refilled his mug again, loitering hesitantly by the door for a few minutes, “I guess I’ll leave you to it…”

He turned before he had the chance to change his mind, missing Grantaire’s face fall as he struggled to swallow down the huge mouthful in order to protest before he left the room, and Enjolras’ heart sank at the thought that he hadn’t tried to stop him.  
 _‘It’s for the best… it’s for the best…’_

It was an hour or so later when Enjolras ventured to find Grantaire in his room. He’d lingered as much as he could in order to prolongue the inevitable.

Little did he know, Grantaire had waited in the kitchen for him the entire time in the hope he’d rejoin him, even brewing another pot of coffee thinking the aroma might tempt him out from wherever he was hiding. He mentally cursed himself for acting so desperate as he stood at the sink, slowly washing the dishes, before deciding he’d procrastinated long enough.

It was then that Enjolras had reluctantly come to find him in his room, and they’d stared at each other nervously when they thought the other wasn’t looking, both avoiding meeting each others eye.

“You uh, you ready?”

_‘No…’_ Grantaire thought, but nodded anyway, “Yeah, sure…” he bent to gather his bandages from where he’d left them on the bed,

“What’s that?”

“What?”

“Are they from your ribs?”

Grantaire looked to where Enjolras was pointing at his hand, “Um… yes?”

“Grantaire!”

“What?!”

“You’re not supposed to take them off!” Enjolras gently chided him,

“I didn’t think I should get them wet…”

“Yeah, but you’re supposed to put them back on,”

“I know… I tried…”

Enjolras regarded him sternly for a moment, his face softening as Grantaire nervously shifted from foot to foot, “Hurts too much?”

Grantaire nodded, “Well, yeah, but it doesn’t matter, I’ll figure it out when I get home.”

Enjolras came over and took them from his hand, “You could’ve asked me for help you know.”

He unravelled it somewhat and looked up, finding Grantaire watching him, a somewhat reluctant expression on his face. Their eyes met, their chests mere inches apart, Enjolras noticed he seemed to be holding his breath as he carefully lifted both Grantaire’s arms by the elbow, stopping when they reached shoulder height,

“I… uh, I wasn’t sure it’d be… you know… appropriate…” His voice seemed to have got lost somewhere on the way out.

Enjolras reached for the hem of Grantaire’s t-shirt and slowly raised it, inch by inch revealing his battered torso. “Yeah… probably not.”

Their eyes remained locked as he gathered the material in his hands, fingers brushing lightly over Grantaire’s as he transferred it to him to hold. He finally lowered his gaze, unable to stop the sharp intake of breath as his eyes fell on the dark purple bruising already marring the usually flawless expanse of skin.

‘Shit…’ His fingers had trailed across the damaged flesh before he’d even realised what he was doing, and he carefully started to wrap him back up in the pristine white bandages.

His heart clenched for the man standing silently in front of him, watching the way a trail of goosebumps followed his touch, the way he tensed and held his breath as his hand skimmed over the sensitive skin of his nipples, the nubs hardening beneath his fingertips… 

He stared in fascination at the reaction, unable to tear his eyes away… He didn’t mean to take so long, he kept telling himself it was because he didn’t want to hurt him… well, that was definitely a part of it… 

Enjolras tore his eyes away from his handiwork, his stomach turning in on itself as he watched Grantaire intently, his eyes closed, face turned slightly upwards, the expressions playing across his features, calm and serene, his breathing deep, somewhat laboured…

“Grantaire…” he was hesitant, reluctant to break the spell,

“Hm?”

“How old are you?”

He watched him open his eyes, clear, blue, almost translucent, he decided he could stare into them forever as they locked solemnly on his own. “Twenty two.”

“Twenty two?” he sighed, “And I’m almost nineteen.” He refused to let himself get his hopes up at how small the age gap really was…

Sighing again, forlornly, he resigned himself to the fact that it didn’t matter, there was no way anything could change.

“It’s nothing. Nothing! It fucking sux.”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t expect Grantaire to agree with him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

This time they sighed in unison, Enjolras’ hands resuming their task that he’d momentarily forgotten about.

“If it were any other circumstances…”

“I know…”

“I mean, no one would bat an eyelid! Any other circumstances Grantaire and it wouldn’t even be an issue…”

“I know. But it’s not. And so it is.”

“Or would be…”

“If anyone knew…”

“Yeah.”

They both sighed again and lapsed into silence as they lamented what could’ve been, Enjolras’ hands continuing to hypnotically work their way through the roll of bandage. He was so immersed in getting it just right, tight enough to do the job but not so much that it hurt him, that he almost missed Grantaire’s next words, barely reaching the air,

“I missed you…”

He paused, wondering if he heard right, before slowly letting out the breath he wasn’t even aware he’d been holding as he whispered, “Do you mean that?”  
He bit his lip, holding his breath again without even realising, hands poised mid wrap as he waited for a response,

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t…”

“I missed you too…”

Grantaire had to remind himself to breathe again, just hearing Enjolras say that was confirmation enough for him, an admission that he had actually meant something to him, something he suddenly realised he really needed to hear.

“It’s so unfair Enjolras…”

“It is, it really is so fucking unfair! If you were anything else… I mean seriously, if you were a doctor, a fucking coffee barista, I dunno man, anything, it wouldn’t matter! And even if we met exactly the same way… it’d be fine!”

“I know…”

“If I was just one fucking year older! And not in school!”

“I know.”

“Or maybe if you taught at a different school…”

They both paused at that, catching each others eye.

“Yeah…”

“Then it wouldn’t matter! It’s just the timing…” He frowned at the sheer audacity of it all.

“I know.” Grantaire sighed.

“It fucking sux!”

“It does, it really does.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong you know!”

“No one else would see it that way…”

“You’d be lynched…”

“Don't remind me…” Grantaire grimaced, resigned to the fact, their eyes meeting again, and they stared at each other for a long time,

“We didn’t know…”

“I know…”

“But we know now…”

“Yeah… we know now.”

“I’m so sorry…”

Enjolras sounded so forlorn it almost broke Grantaire’s heart, he shook his head, “Don’t, just… don’t.” He placed a finger gently under Enjolras’ chin, forcing him to look at him again as he refused to meet his eye, “Enjolras, you can't fix this, you have nothing to apologise for, it wasn’t your fault… it wasn’t anyone’s fault! We didn’t know…”

Enjolras just nodded sadly, staring into his eyes longer than he knew was good for him, finally closing his own as he felt his resolve weakening to a point he knew there’d be no return from. Bahorel knew him better than he knew himself it seems. 

Resting their foreheads together, he dared to whisper the words he never expected to be saying out loud,

“I wish we still didn’t know…”

“Me too,” Grantaire whispered, “Me too.”

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But I know you'd hate to live  
> I know you'd hate to live  
> Inside my head  
> Inside my head 
> 
>  
> 
> [Inside my head](https://soundcloud.com/tninfidels/inside-my-head?in=tninfidels%2Fsets%2Fterror-terror-hide-it-hide)


	6. Is it Possible to Control, What’s Written in the Stars?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seemed impossible to change… to even try. But was it impossible or did they just want it to be?
> 
> Which path would do the most damage in the long run? Being together? Or being apart?
> 
> There was more than one way of breaking a heart, of causing irreparable damage to a soul... Is it even possible to change fate? It was certainly possible to tempt it.
> 
> Sometimes they say, resistance is futile.

....................

 

They stood there for the longest time, deep in quiet contemplation, Enjolras’ hands resting lightly on Grantaire’s chest where he had moments ago secured the bandage,

“You’re trembling…”

“I’m okay…”

Their faces were barely a breath apart as they took comfort in each other’s presence, both safe in the knowledge that although they knew nothing more would ever come of it, they still had their shared memories of what had been, and dreams of what never will.

“Grantaire, are you sure? You’re…”

“I uh, I might just sit down for a minute… before we go…”

And once they’d reached that conclusion, once they’d reached the point of mutual understanding, it only seemed natural that they take the next logical step,

“Grantaire…”

“I’m okay…”

“You’re not! You’re totally not going anywhere,”

“I’m fine, honest. Just a little light headed, standing up too long maybe…”

It felt so right, to resume where they’d left off, but they didn’t, they wouldn’t, they knew they couldn’t.

“Lie down, rest. Doctors orders… and I know the doctor. Besides, you look like shit.”

“Gee thanks.”

Enjolras couldn’t hold back the smirk, “Can I get you anything?”

“Yeah…”

“What?”

“You.”

It was largely unavoidable really, to a certain extent it could be said it was beyond their control.  
Is it possible to control, what’s written in the stars?

Enjolras actually gulped, “Grantaire…" he whispered, "I, you know I want to…”

“I don’t mean that,” Grantaire released a pained huff in place of the laugh he'd intended, “You insatiable fuck,”

It seemed impossible to change… to even try. But was it impossible or did they just want it to be?

“Sorry…” he sank down next to him on the bed, shoulders slumped,

After coming so far, who were they to just go ahead making such frivolous decisions? Risking everything when it could ruin both their lives? Were they already beyond saving?

Grantaire took his hand, he didn’t move, “Just stay with me? Please? It's all I ask.”

“I better not…”

But which path would do the most damage in the long run? Being together? Or being apart?

“I promise I won’t do anything, just talk to me…”

“I really don’t think it’s a very good idea…”

“Why not?”

There was more than one way of breaking a heart, of causing irreparable damage to a soul... Is it even possible to change fate? It was certainly possible to tempt it.

“Grantaire… I don’t trust myself with you.”

 

Sometimes they say, resistance is futile…

 

Their eyes met as he turned towards him, instantly the pull between them so strong that they were powerless to resist as their locked gaze lingered, reluctantly at first then far longer than either intended, not even realising the extent to which they succumbed, staring, lost.  
It was like they were drawn together in a way that was more than a mere conscious decision, and despite wrestling with each respective conscience, their lips finally met, brief, hesitant, tender.

Time stood still. Nothing else mattered. The gentle insistence of soft lips, satisfied sighs exchanged as warm breath caressed hesitant tongues, wholly innocent, yet nothing chaste about the desire bubbling just under the surface.

Reluctantly they pulled away, Enjolras instantly lowering his gaze. He stared at Grantaire’s fingers as they tentatively reached for his own, gently tugging him down until they were lying face to face, biting his lip so hard in a colossal effort not to look at him, knowing it’d break every ounce of his resolve.

“I won’t always be in school…” he whispered, desperately, longingly,

“Enjolras…” Grantaire sighed, placing a final touch of lips to his forehead, “Don’t do this…” 

But he couldn’t stop thoughts collecting in his own mind, already looking to the future, formulating a plan for the long run… but he didn’t dare put it into words, not wanting to get his hopes up, to risk jinxing it before it had even begun.

“And you won’t always be my teacher…”

“But I am right now.”

“Doesn’t that just sound so fucked up?”

“It does, it really does.”

“But it doesn’t feel like that…”

“What? Doesn’t feel fucked up? No.”

“Yeah, I mean, not right here right now. This…” he gestured between themselves, “This is just some dude I picked up in a bar that…”

“Gee thanks,”

“…that lasted longer than one night, because I got to know him and I really like him…” he finally met Grantaire’s eye as he lay alongside him, “Do you get what I’m saying? Like, I don’t feel like that’s the same guy I answer to at role call, I don’t even know that guy you are at school, I only know you, this Grantaire, the one right here right now. Fuck, I’m not even making sense!”

“No, you are, I know exactly what you mean, it’s like we both have these two different lives, and we just slip between them, completely separate from each other, one we inhabit because we have to, and the other because it’s where we belong, where we want to be.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras’ eyes were bright with hope as Grantaire talked, relieved that he understood, that he felt the same way,

“And even though I only just found this side of me, this is where I met you, we met in this life, we don’t even know each other there! This Enjolras that I do know, that’s not the same guy that sits down the back of that class… I don’t even know him! I’ve never even spoken to him!”

Enjolras laughed, “Exactly! So at school it won’t be too hard for us to act like we’ve never met in our life before, ‘cos technically we haven’t!” 

“Well, _technically_ we have,”

“Only in one of our lives,” Enjolras sighed, “I know I know, we can justify it all we like in this messed up version in our heads while we're safe here locked away in this room, but it’d never stand up in a court of law.”

“A court of law, fuck, don’t even joke about that!”

He laughed at the look on Grantaire’s face, “Okay, I won’t go there, I doubt even Bahorel could get us out of that one. Can you imagine it though, “'I swear your honour, I met Grantaire in my other life!' _‘Enjolras, just because he didn’t recognise you with your clothes on when you weren't busy down on your knees doesn’t mean he wasn’t still your teacher!’_ Oh god, can you imagine it?”

Grantaire groaned, horrified, flushing instantly at the analogy, “Don’t, just don’t!”

“Sorry, heh,”

“No you’re not,”

“Not for what we did, no… I’m not.”

“Me neither.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sighing wistfully, Enjolras smiled, and they lapsed into a long, comfortable silence, staring into each others eyes, interspersed with slow, lingering kisses.

Enjolras looked thoughtful, unable to stop daydreaming potential scenarios where they could be together.

“You know…” he ventured, really just thinking out loud, “No one at school knows me, not really, not the real me,”

“I’d keep it that way if I were you…”

“Fuck yes. You think I don’t know that? Why do you think I come up here every weekend?”

“I don’t blame you.”

Looking into the deep grey eyes that were watching him as he talked, Enjolras bit his lip, deep in thought, an idea forming… “You know… no one from school ever comes up here, it’s too far away…”

“Well, it is practically a different city…”

“Exactly! And… well, even if they did, they’d never go anywhere near the kinda places we go…”

“Enjolras…” Grantaire said warningly, he could see where this was going.

“Even if they did, no one from school would recognise me, you didn’t even recognise me!”

“What exactly are you getting at?”

“Well, I just thought, you know…”

“What?”

“What harm would it do if we sometimes kinda accidentally bumped into each other in places like, say… oh I dunno, the bathroom at Tiger, Bahorel’s spare room…”

“It’d do all the harm in the world, if anyone ever actually did see us… and recognised you.”

“Yeah…”

“Hey,” he took Enjolras’ crestfallen face between his palms, looking lost and every bit his 18years, forcing him to look into his eyes and surprising them both by capturing his lips in a heated kiss, “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t _like_ to accidentally bump into you though…”

“Don’t tempt me…”

“Maybe after graduation…”

“Maybe…?”

“But not til then…”

“No…”

“Definitely not til then…”

“Definitely not…”

“Okay.”

“That’s a really long time…”

“Yeah… I know.”

“Sux.”

 

“Yep.”

 

... 

 

Before either of them knew it the weekend had gone, and Grantaire had somehow ended up staying the whole time. Minutes merged into days without them even realising, forged by hours of conversation and endless discussion about everything and nothing in particular.  
But true to their word, they kept their hands to themselves, for the most part, and next thing they knew they were back to normal, avoiding each other like the plague at school on Monday morning.

They fell easily into the old routine, pretending the other didn’t exist, but it was like some invisible barrier had been broken and the awkward lump had disappeared from the back of their throats every time they accidentally walked pest each other in the corridor. 

The uneasy tension had dissipated to the point where they could go about their respective business without the feeling of dread hanging over them, the feeling that everybody knew, worrying about every little thing, feeling the need to constantly flee. Issues had been resolved, they both felt free. Closure, it did wonderful things for a person’s state of mind. 

But as Friday drew to a close, Enjolras began to wonder at the incessant pestering of his weekend friends. All week they’d been badgering him with texts and voicemails, but seeing as he’d accidentally left his phone at Bahorel’s he received them all in one gigantic batch when he arrived on Friday night. 

He was confused, there was a lot of seemingly rambling waffle about ‘sorting him out’ and ‘teaching him a lesson’… what the fuck were they talking about? And who? His heart was sinking. 

Something didn’t sit right with him about the whole thing and he had a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. There was only one way to find out he figured, throwing on his jacket as he headed for the door.

Bahorel watched the whole scene with increasing trepidation, unsure of how much to reveal about what he suspected. He was pretty certain it was Enjolras’ own friends who were responsible for the state of Grantaire last week, the initial drugging at the very least, but he didn’t want to cause any unnecessary rifts and go around starting trouble until he was sure. But he couldn’t stop himself from calling out before Enjolras disappeared.

“Hey, wait a sec,”

He quickly explained what he feared to his incredulous friend, whose eyes widened in horror at the thought that he was entirely responsible for what happened without even having a clue. He’d ignored his phone the whole weekend, too busy being entranced by Grantaire to even care, let alone notice his battery had died, then forgetting it altogether. So to suddenly hear that it could in fact have been some kind of defending of his honour, out of some misguided sense of loyalty, he just couldn’t believe it! They were a tight knit group who looked out for each other, and sure, there’d been a few fists thrown in anger and self defence in the past, but he certainly hadn’t expected that!

He was completely blaming himself regardless now anyway, no matter what Bahorel said to try and reassure him, as if the possibility that it was someone else entirely who finished him off when he was too fucked to do anything about it was reassuring in any way whatsoever.

“I’m going down there!”

“Enjolras wait!”

“No! I have to know!”

Bahorel’s heart went out to him at the utterly distraught look on his face, he nodded, “I’ll drive.”

...

 

\-- _“But why? Why would you do something like that?”_

Bahorel watched Enjolras listening to whatever was being said on the other end of the phone,

\-- _“Teaching him a lesson?! What the fuck? What for?”_

So he was right…

\-- _“No he didn’t! Who told you that shit? What the fuck are you talking about?”_

It wasn’t really eavesdropping when they’re shouting like that and you’re right there…

\-- _“And you believed it? Without even talking to me first? Checking you had it right?! Fuck! What were you thinking?”_

His face was puce, incandescent with rage.

\-- _“Yes you got it fucking wrong! Bahorel found him dumped at a fucking bus shelter! Because of you! He had to take him to hospital!”_

Stepping on the gas, Bahorel looked sideways at Enjolras as he exploded,

\-- _“A bit of fun? Fun? Which one of you was it?”_

His voice was barely a whisper, and Bahorel watched as his face literally drained of all colour…

\-- _“What do you mean why? ‘Cos I’m gonna fucking kill you, you raping sonofabitch.”_

Uh oh…

\-- _“Not what you intended? Oh yeah? What exactly did you intend then? Huh?!”_

Shit…

\-- _“What part of no don’t you understand? I don’t care what you thought! You thought fucking wrong! You should’ve asked me first!”_

Screeching to a standstill Enjolras all but leapt from the car, leaving the door swinging open as he flew into the bar. Bahorel knew Enjolras was capable of being terrible. He saw him swing a punch through the window, running literally into a circle of guys and taking specific aim, landing a clean direct hit before turning around and calmly walking straight back out as the fallout erupted behind him.

Bahorel didn’t even attempt to go after him, he knew there was no point. He knew where he was going, and he wasn’t about to try and stop him. He figured he needed to do this, to explain, seek redemption of sorts. He felt bad enough himself for not stepping in when he’d had the chance, so he could only imagine how Enjolras must be feeling.

...

 

“Enjolras! What the fuck… you can’t be here!” Grantaire was looking around wildly as if he expected sirens and police cars to appear at any second.

“I need to tell you something, to explain…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know what happened, it’s all my fault.”

It was only as he spoke that Grantaire caught the haunted look on his face, the turmoil in his voice ripping out his heart and his gut twisting in sudden fear.

He stared at him in shock, wordlessly letting him in.

...

 

Enjolras had practically run through the streets, only slowing when he finally approached Grantaire’s house, getting slower and slower as he began to feel sick to his stomach at the thought that he was responsible.  
 _‘Please be home please be home… I need to explain…’_

He stood outside the door getting his breath back, staring at it for ages before he found the courage to finally knock.

But it wasn’t until he saw the look on Grantaire’s face after he had told him everything that he began to wonder if it was really such a good idea, why was he really telling him? Was it just for his own peace of mind? Did he really want him to know or did he just want to see him? To be with him? 

You can’t comfort someone who doesn’t know they’re in need of it… 

But with hindsight he now began to think maybe he was the one in need of comfort, and the way Grantaire was looking at him, a mixture of horror and disbelief, he certainly wasn’t going to be getting it from him.

He sat on the couch wringing his hands together nervously, not knowing how to break the deafening silence. Eyes downcast, fixed pointedly at the floor, blaming himself, hating himself, he struggled to find words, a constant repetition of sorry not making him feel any better, the whispered plea desperate, forlorn.

Grantaire didn’t know what to think, where to begin, and he literally didn’t know what to say, his head swimming with unanswered questions that he couldn’t put into words.

“I should go…” Enjolras stood up, and it took a moment for Grantaire to register, so lost was he in his train of thought.

He nodded, unthinking, not noticing the heartbroken look cross Enjolras’ face before he quickly pulled himself together, mask falling into place.

At Grantaire’s lack of response Enjolras continued, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, “Well… uh, see you then…”

He’d got all the way to the door before Grantaire snapped out of it, jumping up as though awakened suddenly from his reverie, “Enjolras…”

He stopped, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. It wasn’t until he felt Grantaire’s presence behind him, hovering, uncertain, that he looked up, “Im so, so sorry,” he was almost pleading.

“Wait…” The hand on Enjolras' arm was there for less than a second but that was all it took, he spun around and hope flashed through his eyes before he could stop it,  
“Look I...” Grantaire didn’t even know what he was going to say, he ran his fingers through his curls and over his face, scratching absently at his stumbled chin as he clutched at straws, fumbling for words, any words, ”I er… I was just about to eat… I’ve got way too much… if you want…” he let his hand drop, stepping back, leaving the ball in Enjolras’ court.

 

Enjolras didn’t leave until Monday morning…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We lay on the bed there  
> Kissing just for practice  
> But if I remain passive  
> And you just want to cuddle  
> Then we should be ok  
> And we won't get in a muddle  
> Seeing other people  
> At least that's what we say we are doing


	7. Ever The Gallant Gent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras had little to no interest in the school ball whatsoever. He knew he’d look good in a tux, it wasn’t that, in fact he kinda fancied dressing up, but he knew the music would be shit.
> 
> Maybe he could finally fuck Grantaire on that great big desk of his? 
> 
> In his dreams maybe. As usual.

7

...

The year somehow passed quickly, the mundane continuity of school dragging from one week to the next, the constant effort to stay apart getting easier with each passing day. The initial awkward tension wore off until it finally got to the point where they really didn’t even notice each other at school anymore, the daily morning ritual of role call the only interaction they had. It continued on in much the same vein for almost an entire year.

Before they even had time to think too much about it, the end of the academic calendar drew near, and suddenly, the senior ball was upon them. The biggest night of their life so far in most student’s eyes, and one Enjolras had little to no interest in whatsoever. He knew he’d look good in a tux, it wasn’t that, in fact he kinda fancied dressing up, but he knew the music would be shit, the fake bullshit that went along with the whole thing would drive him insane, and worse than that, he knew everyone was expecting him to turn up with a girl. And that meant he had to ask one.

His mother was already dropping hints left right and centre and had not-so-subtly cleared a space amongst the framed family photos. He really didn’t know what he was going to do. He considered not going at all, feigning illness, breaking a leg, that should do it, but he knew he wouldn’t get away with it, unless he was literally dead. And his mum would actually kill him if he didn’t go. With a girl. She wanted that photo. She already had a frame.

It was fast approaching, and he’d done nothing at all that could be considered in any way constructive towards procuring a date.  
But much to his surprise, and eventual amusement, an opportunity presented itself that he hadn’t quite been expecting.

For reasons that were too bizarre to even go into, he ended up sitting in the back of a limo with Combeferre and his incredibly hot older sister, having just posed for a ridiculous amount of photos in his living room to placate his over enthusiastic mother. Her exuberance had required copious amounts of patience and it was with relief that they’d finally escaped.

Now, sipping spiked lemonade from champagne flutes, laced with Combeferre’s secret stash of Famous Grouse, he was debating whether or not to just slip away into the night when the car eventually pulled up to the school. No one would notice, he mused, wondering if he’d get away with it, a night of dancing at TigerTiger instead sounding more than tempting… especially while he looked this good. 

He knew the real reason he didn’t want to go though, and the more he thought about it the more determined he became, or, more to the point, the more his bravery dwindled, he didn’t know if he could cope seeing Grantaire dressed up and with a possible date on his arm.

His own ‘date’, merely for the benefit of his mother of course, was Combeferre’s sister Emilia, and it could be considered a win/win situation all round. She was one year older, hot as hell, and was only doing this to get back at her ex-boyfriend Dominic, who was taking someone else and Emilia was unamused to say the least.

Enjolras had stepped in, ever the gallant gent, as a favour to Combeferre and was practically a hero in everyone’s eyes without even having to explain a thing. He already got on extremely well with Combeferre’s whole family anyway, having been at school with him practically forever, so he didn’t really see it as much of a big deal.

But now he found himself shaken from his reverie as Emilia wondered out loud why Enjolras, good looking guy like him, hadn’t been snapped up months before by some other eligible bachelorette to do the honours of escorting her to the ball.

Enjolras, awkward as fuck all of a sudden at feeling like he was being called out, managed a shrug and knew he was blushing profusely into the dark, stammering something sarcastically along the lines of none of them being quite eligible enough.

Combeferre chose that moment to fix him with an inquisitive stare as if wondering the answer to the same question himself, yet merely chimed in with something about how oh yeah, of course, he’d had to fend them off with a big stick there was just so many throwing themselves at him. Sarcastic bastard.

“Crucifix more like,” Enjolras had added in all seriousness, to guffaws all round, until Emilia flippantly quipped that she’d been beginning to think she was merely a perfect cover to keep their loving gay relationship a big secret.

The term mortified didn’t even begin to cover the look on Combeferre’s face, and Enjolras wasn’t faring much better, unsure whether to laugh or cry, and Emilia’s boisterous cackle at her own joke came to an abrupt halt when she realised she was the only one laughing…

“Oh my god! It’s true?” she squealed excitedly, and the horror filled seconds seemed to stretch endlessly for a minute or two, until the silence was finally broken with a cacophony of resounding rebuttals, as he and Combeferre practically fell over themselves with vehement rebuking and indignant denial.

“Ems, give me some credit, geez, I can do much better than Combeferre for fucks sake! I do have some taste you know!”

“Oh yeah? C’mon then, spill, like who?”

Another shrug, “I don't know,” he drawled laconically, “Hm, well I’m quite partial to a bit of Dean Winchester.”

They both turned and stared at him in shock to see if he was joking, and he couldn’t quite believe he was actually admitting it himself, trying to gauge their reactions to see if he needed to make that seem like a hilarious joke to wriggle his way out of it.

But Emilia, seeming to sense his predicament, encouraged the whole thing,  
“What? Oh god no, no you’re not, I won't allow it, he was so 2010, and he’s old enough to be your dad!”

“What, no way! He's gorgeous, I'd still do him. And his angel. Together preferably." He did his best not to descend into guffaws at the wide eyed stares currently levelled on him. "Hm. Okay, who else, Tom Hardy. And Channing Tatum. Eric Northman in True Blood god damnnnn, did you see the bit when Jason had the sex dream about him?" He ignored the incredulous stares as he continued, on a roll, "Tom Hiddlestone. Oh and his brother.”

“His brother? What, Thor?” Combeferre declared as if it was some big surprise,

“Yes, _god yes_ , and your point being? Have you even seen that guy?? Oh and Jon Snow.”

“Jon Snow?"

"Brother dearest you really are not up on your current tv blockbusters, of the Night Watch, silly,"

"Ah thank fuck for that, for a minute there I thought you meant him off channel 4 news!" Laughter erupted around him at the ridiculousness of that thought before another thought entirely struck Combeferre abruptly, "Really?”

“Er...Yes. You look surprised.”

“Only at how I never realised until now how much Jon Snow looks like..." Enjolras blood ran cold, not now, no, not now not now not now, after all this time, even he hadn't made the connection, not consciously, but there was no denying a certain similarity, he cringed, frozen, caught under Combeferre's inquisitive stare. "Looks like who?" Emilia prompted, impatient, "One of our teachers," Combeferre kept his gaze on Enjolras, a small smile playing around the corner of his mouth, "Really?!" Emilia's eyes widened in glee, "Which one? Will he be here tonight?" "Probably, they are duty bound, aren't they? Don't worry, I'm sure Enjolras will be more than happy to point him out to you," he smirked. Enjolras shook himself, figuring it best to go with the flow, "God yes. You should see him Ems, he's gorgeous," 

Combeferre scowled, “Well, there’s no accounting for taste. I’m much better looking than any of them anyway.”

“Yes but you’re not about to suck my cock any time soon so you don’t count.” He sniggered as Combeferre’s aghast expression turned to one of mock disgust,

“No, I’m not. Ew. But hey, neither are they!”

“Excuse me but I think you’ll find they do! On a regular basis, every night in fact, in my dreams…”

“Oh my god they’ll be doing it in mine too from now on!” Emilia had been staring the whole time he’d been talking, almost as though she had a new found respect for him all of a sudden,

“What, suck your cock?!”

”No, suck yours! That’s the hottest thing ever…”

“No it’s not Emilia, ew! Gross gross gross!”

“Hey, don’t knock it til you’ve tried it!”

“I am NOT sucking your cock!”

“Good! You weren’t invited anyway!”

“Good!”

Combeferre crossed his arms across his chest in a huff with a face that looked as though Enjolras suggested he eat dog poo like he had that one time when they were four. 

“Hey! Hang on, why not? What’s wrong with me? I’m better looking than all of them! I know I’m not Thor but I have some Spiderman boxers…”

"TOO MUCH INFORMATION THANKYOU!"

“Yes I bought them for you remember, when you were in your _phase_.”  
“Ha! So you were trying to groom me all along!” Combeferre crowed in triumph, "Hang on, phase? What phase?"

“Your superhero phase,” Enjolras rolled his eyes laughingly, winking at Emilia who was smirking at him from across the car,

"Superhero phase? Me? Never." Combeferre huffed.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much!” Emilia piped up, “I’d love to have a gay brother, sure you don’t even fancy it just a little bit?”

“Just a little bit? Is that a thing these days is it? But no, sorry, I don’t! And even if I did, you’re not watching. Enjolras! Look what you’ve started! Stop giving her ideas!”

“Me?! It was you! And who said anything about watching?! How much have you had to drink anyway?! Give me that bottle…”

The easy banter continued as they pulled up in style, Enjolras feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as Emilia took his hand giggling as they posed for the compulsory official photos, and Combeferre extended his arms announcing his arrival to the waiting throng gathering outside the school gates.

...

He hardly batted an eyelid and managed to keep his tongue from hitting the floor, somehow not even missing a step as he glanced inside and immediately laid eyes on Grantaire. It was all he could do not to stare like a love sick school girl.

“See something you like?” Emilia whispered at him, dragging him over to the food table where Combeferre was busy topping up their drinks.

“Maybe.”

And from then on she seemed to forget all about Trevor or Dominic or whatever his name was and her elaborate scheme to make him jealous, instead concentrating souly on procuring as much info from Enjolras as she possibly could for the entire rest of the night.

 

......

 

Grantaire surveyed the room with a perturbed scowl, heading straight for the long tables packed with food to join all the other losers there without a date. Moving to stand with the staff, he took in the stupid girly decorations, the cliquey groups bitching about each others outrageous clothes as usual, nothing much had changed since his day. 

His day? Who was he? His grandpa? His day was only a few years ago, the loud pumping music was practically identical for fucks sake, or at least, equally as shit.

He was still reeling from the glimpse he caught of Enjolras arriving earlier, looking incredible, with a girl, _a girl,_ and looking anywhere but at him. He hadn’t been expecting that, and he certainly hadn’t been expecting the way it made him feel. 

Even after all this time, after literally months apart, showing ultimate restraint to the point where it almost was as if they really didn’t know each other at all, he wasn’t even sure if Enjolras still felt the same about him, if he even felt anything at all, the wave of jealousy that washed over him was so intense that it unsettled him completely.

The night could not have gone any slower. It was all just a bit too much. He'd spent his whole life so far hating this sort of thing, and he wasn’t about to stop now. Thank fuck for his friend Mr J.Daniels, tucked up neatly inside his desk in his classroom, just waiting for an opportune moment for reconciliation.

He mingled as required, the minimum amount he could get away with, making small talk and smiling until his face hurt with the effort. If he had to suffer even one more fucking question about whether or not he had a girlfriend waiting for him at home he was actually going to punch someone’s lights out. Why did people wait all year to start giving a shit about his private life? He finally managed to escape, slipping out of the gymnasium unnoticed to find some peace and quiet, just a few minutes respite, away from the din.

He didn’t notice the figure stopping instantly in the hall, the pair of big blue eyes widen hesitantly as they saw him on their way out of the bathroom, looking around quickly before following him in.

“Enjolras? What the fuck are you doing? Anyone could’ve seen you!”

"I just wanted to tell you…”

“What? Tell me what? Make it quick!”

“That you look really beautiful tonight Grantaire..."

Grantaire’s next words died on his tongue. Enjolras had been moving closer as he spoke, he was so close, he could feel his hot breath against his skin, goosebumps following the path of his lips…

His breath caught in his throat, more than anything he wanted to tell Enjolras the same thing, it was true, he looked stunning, as if he’d ever look anything less. Not to Grantaire.

Slightly tipsy, mischief shone in Enjolras’ eyes as he moved to stand even closer, his inhibitions fast depleting.

"Have you been drinking?"

"Maybe…" he moved closer, if that was even possible.

"Enjolras..." Grantaire pushed him away, just a little, forcing himself to say the next words, "You know the rules…"

"What are they gonna do? Expel me?" he leant in, lips brushing lightly across Grantaire’s own before kissing him deeply.

Trying not to succumb, Grantaire pushed him away, harder this time, "No,” he breathed heavily, panting, “They’ll arrest ME, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Sorry…" biting his lip, Enjolras averted his eyes.

Peering up through his lashes, he looked so crestfallen that Grantaire had to physically stop himself from devouring him there and then. “Don’t…”

"I just couldn’t stop, you look so..."

"We've come this far, don’t fuck it up now…"

"I know, I just haven’t seen you in so long... it’s been months…”

“I know…”

“I’ve missed this… being so close to you…"

“Enjolras…” Grantaire tensed, trying with all his might to hold himself together, maybe half a bottle of bourbon really wasn’t such a good idea afterall… but he took another swig nevertheless. Sighing sadly, he finally admitted, “You know the feeling’s mutual right? You’ve always known what you do to me…”

Enjolras reached forward, cupping Grantaires’s groin as the bigger man groaned into the side of his neck, “I had a sneaking suspicion, kinda hard not to…” he smirked as he squeezed gently, feeling Grantaire’s breathing deepen against his skin,

“I think you knew from the moment we met…”

“I think I knew before you did…” he trailed off, staring wistfully at the large desk they were leaning against, himself between Grantaire’s legs and the older man perched on the edge, "I used to sit there daydreaming about bending you over that…"

"Me too… every single day..." Grantaire’s eyes darted to the square of light illuminating the room through the glass in the door... frosted glass…

Looking back to Enjolras’ sad smirk, he smiled a similar one of his own, but Enjolras suddenly leapt forward, grinding their groins together hard and capturing his lips, demanding, begging for more, Grantaire knew he was being intentionally provocative, just to wear down his last little scrap of resistance as he leant his whole body into him against his desk, kissing him possessively,  
“Enjolras…”

“What?”

He could hear the smirk in his voice, “You’re so… naughty…” 

"Sorry sir, am I in… trouble?”

The way he breathed the last word directly into Grantaire’s ear sent an instant jolt of electricity direct to his groin, his cock throbbing into Enjolras’ thigh,

“You will be…” he growled the words throatily, teeth scraping hard over Enjolras’ pulse point as his head lolled back with an animalistic groan, “If you get caught…”

He leant back, looking deep into Grantaire’s eyes, “Will I be punished?” he breathed, the words barely reaching the air before they both snapped. He literally had him flipped around and pressed over the desk in an instantaneous lust-fuelled reaction, no discussion required.

Grantaire didn’t even attempt to stop him, fingers fumbling for his own belt as he felt Enjolras do the same behind him, all logic out the window, trapped as it were, by such powerful forces at work, tempting them, encouraging them, spurring them on. 

They knew they shouldn’t but they couldn’t stop, the very fact that it was fraught with the danger of getting caught the very thing that was driving them on, fingers working quickly, zippers barely open,

“Oh my god…”

“Fuck…”

It took all of two seconds to lose their resolve, all of three for the deed to be done.

Enjolras slumped against Grantaire’s back, panting heavily, neither having felt this sated in months, silence deafening in the empty room.

“Wanna come over tonight?”

“Course I do…”

Enjolras’ face lit up for a fraction of a second as he did up his pants, before his usual cheeky smirk faltered momentarily, “But you’re not going to, right?”

“Right.”

Nodding, Enjolras huffed dramatically, “I know I know. Guess I’ll just have to stick to the memories huh?”

But as he turned to leave, Grantaire reached out, grabbing his wrist before he realised what he was doing,

“Enjolras…” he suddenly pressed his lips against his temple, breathing in his scent, his cologne, “You look beautiful tonight too…”

Enjolras closed his eyes, concentrating so hard on committing the moment to memory forever that he almost missed the next whispered admission, “You always do…”

Feeling like his heart was going to beat completely out of his chest through his ribcage, it swelled beyond capacity and he almost bit his lip in half in a monumental effort to control himself. Slowly taking his face between his hands, kissing his lips softly, he knew what he had to do. In that second he made up his mind. Fuck the scholarship, there was no way he was going away to college, not now, there was no way he could lose this, not after waiting so long. He was staying here.

But he said nothing, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he finally pulled back, breaking the kiss, resting their foreheads together as he stared into his eyes, before turning and leaving the room as quickly and silently as he came.

...

 

On her way into the bathroom, Emilia didn’t realise what she was seeing. At first, she didn’t think anything of Enjolras coming out of some random classroom, and judging by how happy he looked, assumed he was just topping up his drink in the same fashion Combeferre had been doing all night. But five minutes later on her way back out, seeing some random and exquisitely beautiful Jon Snow look-a-like come out of the same room, looking around shiftily as though he had something to hide, she couldn’t quite hold in the tiny squeal of excitement that threatened to give away her presence.

She smiled to herself as she made her way back, pondering how neither her nor Combeferre never knew this about Enjolras at all, despite knowing him almost his entire life. Nothing had changed of course, he was still the same, the scathingly witty, clever and beautiful guy that she loved like a brother, but she wanted the dirt. Her earlier probing hadn’t got very far.

“So have you got a boyfriend?”

“At this school? Are you crazy?”

And now she wondered with interest if that answer had changed…  
Was this guy...? Had he been... seeing him? Or was it just a desperate ‘we’re never gonna see each other again’ thing? She knew he’d never spill, so set about asking him a million questions as soon as she spotted him again inside, all of which he craftily avoided, answering vaguely and with little to no detail no matter how much alcohol she plied him with from her carefully secreted hipflask.

“Oh come on, you can do better than that! At least describe your dream guy for me, come on, who do you have the hots for?” Smiling ridiculously wide when he clearly described the guy she'd just seen, dreamy look on his face, she clapped her hands together happily, practically swooning at the thought.

“So when can we meet him?!”

“Meet him? When pigs fly Em, when pigs fly.”

“Oh come on…” she was about to say she’d seen them and that it didn’t take a genius to figure out he’d just described the guy standing about ten feet away from them, but she held her tongue, not wanting to make him uneasy,

“Meet who?! You said dream guy! You can meet him when he exists!”

She could tell he was panicking, but couldn’t stop now she’d started, “Oh come on, we won’t tell anyone, promise! Can I meet him… now?”

She bit her lip as Enjolras got up, knowing she was pushing her luck and hoping she hadn’t just guaranteed that he wouldn’t tell her anything ever again,

“Now it sounds like you’re the one who’s dreaming!” 

Casting a glance back at her, he held out his hand for her glass, “But I promise that as soon as the fairy godmother waves her magic wand and makes all my dreams come true, you’ll be the first to know.”

He smirked at her as he turned, and she didn’t miss the other pair of eyes that followed him the entire way to the bar, swooning inwardly at her secret.

............

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sit for hours  
> Just waiting for his phone call  
> I'll eat the chocolate  
> Hidden in the fridge  
> I'll play his messages  
> Analyse his intonation  
> Please stop me there  
> I'm even boring myself
> 
> I think of him  
> When I'm doing the dishes  
> I think of him  
> While looking in the sink  
> This ain't no play on words  
> My love for him's absurd  
> If he gave me a sign  
> I'd think about it for a week,  
> I'd build it up  
> And then I'd turn him down


	8. I’ve Been Here the Whole Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blinding flash of the camera for the compulsory photo opportunity, posing with the obligatory platonic handshake and forced smiles, the symbolic passing of the baton, and then it was over, it was done, both barely registering anything as their fingertips continued to tingle… 
> 
> A silent gasp of realisation from the crowd, the promise of a secret to be taken to the grave…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who stuck with this all the way through, and of course thank you for all the lovely kudos, lovely people that you are! Xx

Enjolras was not as cool, calm and collected as he would've liked, his teeth worrying the skin alongside his nails and his leg jigging up and down of its own volition. He barely refrained from fidgeting in his seat, watching as every member of his year took to the stage, receiving their certificates one by one up at the podium from their form teacher. 

From their fucking form teacher! Fuck. FUCK. 

FUCK. 

How was he going to face Grantaire up there? He didn’t think he could do it. They were slowly making it through each class, and his was next. He felt sick. His hands were actually trembling and his stomach did a flip as he watched Grantaire walk up the steps to take his place. He could tell he was shitting bricks too, he could see it on his face. How was he ever going to make it through, having to look into his eyes? 

He knew this was how it was going to happen but it didn’t stop him being any less freaked out by the whole ordeal. He’d been successfully keeping it somewhere in the back of his mind where he didn’t have to think about it, acknowledge it, face up to it… but it was finally here, the moment of truth, in more ways than one. 

It was all over. This was it. The end. Goodbye. 

Goodbye to school at least… what would happen now? He didn’t dare to get his hopes up, about anything, he was trying not to think about it even though it was the one thing his mind was constantly wandering to, conjuring up scenarios that it shouldn’t be… but right now, he had more pressing things to worry about… 

He felt Combeferre nudge him in the ribs and he looked at him in surprise, before realising a million eyes were upon him and his name had been called... Shit. 

 

... 

 

Eyes locking for the briefest of seconds, stormy grey penetrating hesitant blue… there was a flicker of something unrecognisable… a pulsating shock of electricity ran through them as their fingers brushed together, mirroring eyebrows raised in surprise. The blinding flash of the camera for the compulsory photo opportunity, posing with the obligatory platonic handshake and forced smiles, the symbolic passing of the baton, and then it was over, it was done, both barely registering anything as their fingertips continued to tingle… 

 

... 

 

A silent gasp of realisation from the crowd, the promise of a secret to be taken to the grave… 

 

... 

 

The mortar boards were raining down in a flurry and Grantaire could hear the cheering and applause, resounding around the inside of his head, drowning out all other, wildly inappropriate, thoughts… fuck, Enjolras' parents are out there somewhere… 

His eyes began to dart wildly around in terror as the thought struck him, petrified of the wrath of the senior Enjolras and searching for any signs that they knew… but why would they know? How would they know? And just as he took a deep breath to calm himself down, realising how incredibly stupid and paranoid he was being, a large warm palm clamped down on his shoulder. 

“You better take care of him otherwise you’re a dead man, but you already knew that, right?” 

“Bahorel… I…” 

“I know you’d never intentionally do anything to hurt him Grantaire, which is why I’m extending you the courtesy of this friendly warning and not just knocking your block off now. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Good. Now that’s out the way, how you doing man? You weren’t in top shape last time I saw you…” 

As he made small talk with Bahorel for a couple of minutes, he could feel a certain blue pair of eyes staring intently at his back. Grantaire wondered what on earth this out of the blue conversation was all about, did Bahorel know something he didn’t know? Because that was just weird. Did Enjolras have something he needed to tell him? His stomach twisted in a knot at the thought. Was he going away for college? 

He sighed, resigned to the fact. But regardless of that, he sure as hell had something to say to Enjolras, something he’d been working hard towards all year, something that could make all the difference to their lives, but he just didn’t know how to go about it. He didn’t even know where to begin. 

*****

 

Sitting tensely in the bar across the road, pushing away his empty plate and knocking back his double house scotch, Grantaire had an uncanny feeling of being here before. He smiled ruefully to himself, pulling himself together as he stood, mustering all the courage he possibly could as he headed for the back of the rapidly forming queue, a sheen of sweat lightly covering his face as he was illuminated under the giant flaming torches. 

He hoped he hadn’t got it wrong, what he’d overheard, the snippet of conversation between Enjolras and Combeferre after the graduation… he was sure Enjolras had meant for him to hear… 

_“…I've got a job for the summer, working the bar… just some place in the city, you wouldn’t know it… money for university, you know how it is…”_

He’d lingered a while longer, debating what to do, but Enjolras had given him a meaningful look, meaning what exactly, he wasn’t quite sure, but he made up his mind. 

As he turned to leave, a whiff of Chanel number 5 reached his nostrils and a voice whispered in his ear, before re-joining her brother and his best friend by the buffet, an instant jolt of recognition running through Grantaire as he froze, 

“I wish the teachers looked like you when I went to school here…” 

He almost laughed now, at how jealous he’d been, almost, but not quite, and he made his way inside, taking his customary place at the buffet. 

*****

 

Enjolras almost passed out when he saw Grantaire appear at the bar, he’d been watching the door of the club all night, desperate for him to come, but now that he had he didn’t know what to do, what to say. They’d come so far, he could almost taste the freedom, but he was still filled with dread that something would fuck it up, that it was too soon, too fresh, too raw. Too real. 

Because that’s what it really was, now it was here, what he’d been wanting for months, dreaming about for months, when it all boiled down to it, he was too scared to do anything about it. There was still the possibility that something could go wrong… 

“Hey,” 

“Hey,” 

They talked briefly between customers, Grantaire having to turn a blind eye to the fact that Enjolras was proving to be a hit with the clientele, a fact Enjolras barely even seemed to notice. Grantaire wasn’t doing too badly either, in the getting hit on stakes, but they only had eyes for each other. 

“What are you doing next year?” 

The room was hot, loud, pulsing, sweat poured from Grantaire as he fiddled with the rim of his glass, ripping his coaster into a million tiny bits, watching Enjolras serve a guy down the other end of the bar, laughing, smiling, it never quite reaching his eyes… 

“I got a scholarship…” 

“That’s fantastic, well done…” 

“Thanks…” 

_I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it, he’s running away…_

“Enjolras, I…” 

“Fuck… hang on a sec…” 

Grantaire watched as he darted away again, sighing forlornly into his drink as he swirled the ice around the bottom, before draining it in one… _running away from me._

“Grantaire…” 

“Yeah?” 

“I think I’m moving away…” 

Enjolras bit his lip, trying to gauge Grantaire’s reaction, the look on his crestfallen face breaking his heart as he nodded, offering hearty congratulations, 

“Yeah, I thought as much… I mean, I figured you would…” 

“It’s not what you think…” 

“What do I think?” 

“I, I'm not sure, actually…” 

What he really wanted to say was that he'd be staying right here, that he’d received his acceptance letter in the post for the option he’d intended on taking all along… but he hadn’t received it, so he couldn’t say that, not yet… because he just didn’t know. There was still a chance that he hadn’t got in… so he didn’t say a word, letting the uncomfortable silence hang in the air as he was called down the other end of the bar again. 

“So what about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“Next year…” 

“Oh you know, same old same old… teaching, ha!” 

Grantaire didn’t say a word about his plan either. He didn’t say a thing about how he’d been working his arse off all year, throwing himself into his studies after everything that went down, topping up his degree, applying for the job at St Luke’s… it looked like a nice school, pretty exclusive, more money, just round the corner from Bahorel’s place it was too… he didn’t tell him that he got the letter this morning… didn’t tell him that he got the job… 

It was a new start, just what he needed really, a change is as good as a holiday right? 

It was all over but it still didn’t feel safe and they both knew it. Not that had ever stopped them before. 

Grantaire downed the rest of his drink, “What time do you finish?” 

 

...

*****

... 

 

Enjolras stared at the seemingly endless traffic stretching ahead of him, yawning widely. He was on his way home at the end of the week, staring out the window as he waited for the lights to change, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he hummed listlessly along to the radio. He wasn’t really listening to it, just in a hurry to get home and shower, change before work tonight. He was driving back to Bahorel’s after college, big pile of books on the seat next to him. He did get accepted in to his first option after all. 

The summer was beginning to dwindle, the academic year well underway. The first few weeks had passed uneventfully and Enjolras thought back to this time the year before. He’d turned eighteen and hit the clubs, forging out a niche for himself in his new incarnation, he had just met Grantaire, had an amazing time, gone back to school and got the shock of his life…  
A lot had happened since then, and he wondered what was on the cards for him next. 

Just as that thought manifested itself in coherent form, he looked out the window, almost swallowing his tongue in shock, gulping frantically, his whole body tingling. A bevy of car horns honked impatiently behind him as he stared, the lights now green, the lone figure looking up at the commotion. 

He was bending to put his briefcase in his car, and glancing up over the roof, their eyes met. It was almost as if their’s was the pull of the ocean, it was just a fraction of a second yet it was enough to entice both of them to do anything just to feel it again. 

Enjolras saw Grantaire staring at him, eyes wide in shock, he still would have thought that Enjolras had gone away to school after all, he never was presented with an opportune moment to divulge that snippet of information that had come so late… Too late. It took everything in his power not to do a U-turn at the next roundabout to rectify that unforgivable oversight on his part… 

It was only as he drove away, fighting every fibre of his being that wanted to drive straight to Grantaire’s, that he realised where the older man actually was. Was he teaching there, at St Luke’s? If only he’d got a job there in the first place then everything would’ve been fine from the start… 

_fuck my life…_

...

It was all he could think about as he sat toying with his food, unable to do much more than stare at it, wondering whether that feeling in his stomach was it eating itself from the inside out. He was oblivious to Bahorel watching him wryly over the top of his paper, wondering what the fuck was wrong with him this time. 

And now as he stood under the hot spray, the shower turned up as high as it could go in an attempt to, to what? To wash away this feeling, all these feelings? He didn’t know. In fact, he really didn’t think it was a very good idea after all, the hot water that is, now that he actually thought about it… because that was the problem, he hadn’t been able to really cope with that, _thinking_ , in general, what with his brain having turned to a giddy pile of useless mush as soon as he saw Grantaire earlier on. 

He was beginning to wonder if it was even real, did he dream the whole thing? He certainly didn’t dream the way it was making him feel. He was sweating, even under the water, especially under the water, and he hit the cold, feeling some bizarre need to punish himself further as the driving needles drilled into his skin. He really wasn’t sure he was going to make it through the night the way he was feeling right now, what with work starting in less than an hour. 

His head was spinning and his mouth was dry, he wanted to reach out and grab hold of the situation with both hands, get a hold of himself, feel normal again. Because he had just started to think he had come to terms with missing his chance with Grantaire, accepting that it was always going to be a case of monumental bad timing. 

Then he saw him again.

For all of three seconds. And it was enough. It was enough to send him spiralling back to square one, instantly messing up his head again. It had taken all his self control to drive himself home and not drive straight to Grantaire’s house, to run straight into his arms and never let him go. 

_For gods sake, you’re such a fucking girl at times…_ he was thoroughly disgusted with himself, why was he so hung up on this guy? 

But it didn’t stop him from continuing that train of thought, his memory awash with moments they’d shared. Moments that provided his mind with a barrage of imagery, imagery that chose that very moment to appear, in full technicolour, bombarding him with a slideshow of such vivid intensity… 

He couldn’t stop the groan, the vision of Grantaire writhing beneath him the last time they ahem, 'met', overcome with lust, it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. It was clouding his better judgement and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop the awareness in his loins, and his hand slipped down, encouraging himself further as he sprang to life. 

Panting into the tiled wall, his body trembled, biting down hard on his lip to stifle the strangled cry as he came hard, spurting into his hand, thick ribbons washing down the drain along with any shred of self decency he had left. At least that’s how it felt. He had to get over it. He had to stop this. Stop scouring the bar every night, waiting for him, on the off chance, stop watching the door for him to come in. Stop wishing he’d come by… 

_You’ve only got yourself to blame, you could’ve told him, why didn’t you tell him?_

_‘I didn’t know yet, I wanted to be sure…’_

_And then you were sure and you still didn’t…_

_‘It was too soon, it was too soon, I didn’t want to hurt him any more…’_

_Don’t you think you’ve hurt him even more this way? What’s he gonna say when he finds out? You’ve been here the whole damn time!_

Enjolras wondered who the fuck he was justifying himself to as he got in the car, banging his head against the steering wheel in frustration as the voice in his head, that sounded a lot like Bahorel, continued to chastise him. 

He found himself driving past the school again, he didn’t know why… 

***

 

Looking up as he entered the room, the heat hit Grantaire instantly the moment he walked through the door, the instant tickle of the smoke machine in his nostrils, pungent stench of sweat, men, and sex hanging in the air. He felt at ease, like he’d come home, a far cry from this time last year… 

It’s where all his best memories began. 

He could feel all eyes upon him, the heavy thud of the bass running through his body as he made his way to the bar, only one pair of eyes that he was interested in tonight… 

_He’s gone home?_  
Is he okay?  
When did he leave?  
What did he say? 

He ran long fingers in frustration over the stubble of his freshly shaven chin, concern written all over his face, evident in his features, brow furrowing further as he realised he may have missed his final chance. Something in his mind was telling him there was always tomorrow, and the next night, and the next, but he knew within himself he’d long have lost his nerve before he even got that far. No, he had to do it now. As he debated his next course of action, the decision was taken out of his hands, a large and familiar palm coming to rest on his shoulder once more. 

“Grantaire, what the fuck am I gonna do with you two, huh? You’re both driving me insane.” 

 

... 

 

It was the longest four hours of Enjolras’ life as he hovered behind the bar, making himself nervous as he glanced at the door every two seconds. 

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Um, nothing?” 

“You’re fucking wired. Get the fuck out of here until you calm down, you’re freaking me out,” 

“I’m not on drugs!” 

“Enjolras, go home!” 

He sat in the car for what felt like an eternity, trying to muster the courage to knock on the door. Grantaire’s house was in darkness, but it was late… he might be asleep, but he might be out… which meant he could be home soon… right? He’ll just wait here for a while… 

Suddenly the thought struck him that if he was out, and he did come home soon, he might not be coming home alone, and he didn’t know if he could handle that… and there was always the chance that he might not even live here anymore anyway… 

Or he could be inside, and saw him pull up, and is peering through the curtains with all the lights off waiting for him to go away… 

Okay now he was just being paranoid, of that he was well aware, but something in his gut was still stopping him from getting out of the car. 

_‘Oh stop being ridiculous. Man up you cowardly fuck, you’re never going to know if you never even try…’_

... 

Pulling into the drive back home at Bahorel's, Enjolras didn’t think he’d ever felt so defeated. He’d waited well into the small hours but still Grantaire hadn’t shown. He finally grew the balls to knock on the door but only compounded his misery further at the lack of response. He thought back to how he’d dared to get his hopes up on the drive over, his body alive with nerves, excitement and something akin to unbridled lust at just the thought of seeing Grantaire again, maybe this time things will be different? They could be… maybe… right? 

_Turns out you’re just a glutton for punishment…_  
He smashed his fists into the steering wheel, sick of the gloating of the voices in his own head all the way back home, slamming the door as he got out of the car… 

 

“About fucking time, where the hell’ve you been?” 

“What the fuck? None of your business, what’s it to you all of a sudden?” 

But Bahorel was looming in front of him as soon as he walked in, waving his arms around in annoyance as he tried in vain to get his attention, waggling his eyebrows at him not so subtly as he tried to indicate over his shoulder, 

“Just… just out…” Enjolras was well aware he was stammering… _Oh my god ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod…_

Enjolras stared, he just blatantly stared, unashamedly and without any ability to stop. 

“Hey…” 

“Hey.” 

Grantaire had stood from his spot on the couch, nervously hovering behind Bahorel, “How’ve you been?” 

Enjolras shrugged, going from staring to barely able to even look at Grantaire at all, “Not bad, you?” 

“Same…” Grantaire was pretty good at shrugging too, 

The silence was awkward, and deafening. And awkward. Very awkward. Until both tried to break it at once, 

“I went to your house…”  
“I went to the bar…” 

“I was waiting for you…”  
“They said you’d gone home…” 

“I needed to see you…”  
“I was looking for you…” 

“I want to explain…”  
“But you weren’t there…” 

“I want you to know…”  
“And you weren’t home…” 

“I waited for you…”  
“I want you to know…” 

“And now you’re here…”  
“That now I’m here…” 

Everything they said was said in unison, words tumbling out, 

“Grantaire I…”  
“Enjolras…” 

“Yeah…?”  
“Yeah…?” 

 

They managed a laugh, “This is ridiculous, you go first,” 

“No you,” 

“Okay…” 

And now that he could, he didn’t know what to say, he could tell him everything, but he didn’t know where to start… 

“I saw you today…” 

“Yeah?!” 

“Yeah,” Enjolras smirked, 

“I noticed. I saw you too…” 

“So… St Luke’s?” 

“Um, yeah, I wanted to tell you…” Grantaire trailed off, looking up to meet Enjolras' eye as he bit his lip, “But you were going away, I guess I just figured what’s the point, you know? Would've made no difference, too little too late and all that…” 

Enjolras watched him ramble, the pieces falling into place in his mind, maybe, just maybe… 

“So I figured maybe just whenever you came back…” 

“Grantaire…” 

“How long are you home?” 

“Um yeah, about that…” 

“You’re not coming back?” 

“No,” the second the word left his lips he saw Grantaire’s face drop, “No no, I mean yes, I mean…” he hurried to correct himself, “That’s not what I meant… Grantaire…” he took a deep breath, 

“What?” 

“I’ve been here the whole time.” 

Grantaire stared at him, "What...?" His stomach was in his mouth, not sure at first what he was saying, “Why didn’t you tell me?" Then he froze as the penny dropped, "Are you… are you seeing someone else? Because I can go…” 

“Grantaire! Get back here! No! I applied locally to be near you! But I… well I didn’t think I got in, okay? It took ages before they accepted me, and I, well I guess I didn’t want to get my hopes up in case it all fell through, you know?” 

“ ... ” Grantaire spluttered, speechless, Enjolras had really done that, for him?

“It was my first option, well, _you_ were, Grantaire… but I felt a bit silly because I didn't know if you wanted that, so I guess I, chickened out I suppose. But I was waiting for you…” 

“What for? You still could’ve told me…” 

“I know, I don't know! For the right time…?” 

“Will it ever be?” 

Enjolras’ shoulders slumped, he couldn’t help it, he could feel it all slipping away through his fingers, the more he talked, the more he seemed to talk himself out of it, “Well, what about now?” 

“Now?” 

“Well, yeah? I don't know, I mean, we’re both here…” 

“I dunno Enjolras, it’s like…” he sighed, 

“It’s okay, I understand. I can keep waiting, I mean, I don’t mind, if you want…" he took a step forward, "You’re worth it…”

“So… you’re staying?” 

“Yeah.” 

Grantaire chewed his lip, his stomach flipping over and his heart in his mouth, “I waited for you too,” 

They were standing face to face, arms aching to touch, aching to feel, Grantaire couldn’t stop his eyes lighting up, couldn’t fight down the small glimmer of hope threatening to overcome him, already making its way to the surface, rising until it reached the point of no return… And finally, their lips met… finally, after all this time… finally, after everything they’d been through, maybe they could be together, after all? 

 

 

...fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ............Aaaaaaaand that's it! 
> 
> The end! 
> 
> I must admit I'm a bit sad to see these two go, after everything they went through, *sigh* I'm so glad they finally got it together in the end.
> 
> But now what?? I hope it lasts...


End file.
